


Life Support

by andachippedcup



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French is a surgical intern at the Storybrooke Hospital when she first meets Doctor Gold, the Chief of Surgery and a stickler for abiding by hospital policy, which happens to prevent staff members from entering into relationships with interns. In order to become a resident and stay in the surgical program, Belle must pass her intern level exam or else face repeating her internship and denying her growing feelings for Doctor Gold for another year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Old Dragon

It wasn’t that the lab coat didn’t fit – it did, Belle had made sure to triple check her measurements before giving the hospital her size – but it just didn’t feel  _right_. Just like the stethoscope draped around her neck didn’t quite feel right, or the hospital ID badge that dangled from her breast pocket. Or her blue surgical scrubs, or the surgical masks or the surgical gloves. None of them, not a one, felt  _right_.

Not yet anyway.

She imagined it would take time, but then again, she’d already been at this for two months and one day. Not that she’d been counting. It wasn’t like she had a calendar hanging in her apartment with giant red ‘x’s ticking off the days until her time as an intern would be over. No.  _Certainly not_.

Belle had expected her residency to be difficult. She’d expected long hours, emotional, mental and physical strain from sleepless nights on call, patients crashing, angry attendings. She’d expected to drown beneath the paperwork and the medical charts. She’d expected derision and scorn and hazing. She’d expected doctors with impossibly high expectations and standards; she’d expected to be groveling at the bottom of the surgical food chain.

What Belle had  _not_  expected, however, was Doctor Gold.

With a last name like his, she’d almost half expected Midas or some perfect golden boy doctor. But on her first day in the hospital, the gossip had begun and Belle had quickly had her expectations adjusted. Gold was no Midas and he was  _no_  golden boy.

Gold, if gossip was to be trusted, was a grizzled, wizened old doctor with a nasty, positively villainous disposition. Word of mouth had it that he was cruel in the extreme, short tempered, with a particular lack of patience and mercy. Doctor Gold did  _not_ teach; he  _practiced_   _medicine_  and if you picked something up from him? Well, it would not be intentional on his part.  He was kind only when it was to his advantage (namely, with patients) and during his tenure as Chief of  Surgery, he had fired more than his fair share of surgeons for the slightest of infractions.

Doctor Gold, it seemed, took the Hippocratic Oath, doctor-patient confidentiality and hospital rules and restrictions  _very_  seriously. Once you were hired and signed your name on the dotted line, you were his. Set one toe out of line and he’d hang you for it.

Well, metaphorically, of course.

Belle had done her best to avoid Doctor Gold. And for the most part, she’d done a bang up job of it. Her rotations through general surgery with Doctor Swan and obstetrics with Doctor Kathryn Nolan   had kept her well out of Doctor Gold’s way, thankfully. The Chief of Surgery did not deign to deal with such specialties unless the patient was a VIP or the surgery was an incredibly rare one. Neither scenario had occurred while Belle had been in general and OB, so away from the Chief she’d remained.

On the odd occasion their paths had crossed in the hospital’s halls, she’d kept her head low, not out of fear, really, but out of a desire not to cause trouble. Gold, she’d been told, liked nothing better than eating wee interns for breakfast and according to one rumor floating about her intern year, Gold made it his personal vendetta to bring at least half of his interns to tears every year. Anything less than that was considered a bad year in his opinion. Tears meant weakness and weak players were not welcome on Gold’s board game. If he made you cry, he knew the chinks in your armor and he’d be sure to aim all future attacks on you right at those points.

So yes, encounters with Gold meant trouble. And trouble was something best avoided, in Belle’s humble, intern opinion. More often than not though, trouble had a way of finding Belle all on its own. And now that she was entering her rotation through Cardio, it seemed Doctor Gold’s path and hers were destined to finally cross.

——-

Doctor Gold swept into the hospital room briskly in his normal attire of green surgical scrubs and crisp, white lab coat. He was wearing the same thing any of the attendings wore – they all boasted the green scrubs that marked them as surgical gods with their extra long white lab coats. Yet, for all the uniformity the hospital  _tried_ to instill amongst its head surgeons, Doctor Gold still had a way of appearing far more intimidating in his green and white than any other doctor Belle had seen, here or elsewhere.

He snapped his fingers briskly, never one to waste time. Instantly Doctor David Nolan produced the patient’s chart, though Belle noticed the way he rolled his eyes. None of the Residents seemed to care for Doctor Gold (but then again, neither did any of the attendings, or the nurses, or the interns), but they all respected him. Or rather, fearfully submitted to him. The man might not have been pleasant to deal with, but he knew what he was doing and always seemed five steps ahead of the rest of them.

For that reason (well, that and his position as Chief of Surgery), everyone did what was necessary to see to it that when Doctor Gold chose to operate, everything was set to his liking. And if that meant responding like a well trained dog by producing the patient’s chart at the door? Well, then that was what they bloody well did. Belle knew that even Doctor Swan in general, for all her sarcasm and wit and toughness, was forced to grudgingly submit to Gold in a similar manner.

No one messed with the Chief. It was the unwritten, unspoken rule of the surgical floor and really, the entire damn hospital. It didn’t matter that Doctor Gold was only the Chief of Surgery – he commanded attention and respect in all areas of the hospital, surgical or no.

Belle gulped as she watched Doctor Gold’s eyes skim over the pages of the patient’s chart, shaking minutely in disagreement with whatever he found there. From his breast pocket, he withdrew a pen and made a few harsh strokes of his usual chicken scratch writing, crossing out Doctor Nolan’s comments here and there. When he flipped the chart shut and handed it back to Doctor Nolan without a backward glance or a thank you, Belle nearly winced.

Doctor Nolan had made his feelings regarding Doctor Gold known to his young interns within minutes of them starting their Cardio rotation, and Belle knew from the tight lines of his jaw that Doctor David Nolan very much resented being overlooked by the Chief of Surgery. Doctor Gold, however, could not have cared less, he having made his mind up about Doctor Nolan some time ago it seemed (and having found the good doctor rather lacking, judging by his treatment of him). Doctor Nolan was good enough to remain in Doctor Gold’s hospital, it seemed, but not good enough to merit better treatment.

“Right. Well, Mr. Booth, how are you feeling today?” Doctor Gold asked, pocketing his pen again and assuming a smile that, to an unsuspecting patient like Mr. Booth, was probably very convincing. To Belle however, it was a dangerous smile; this was the smile of a man that waged war with life and death, feeling no fear for those beneath his scalpel.

It was a smile that gave Belle  _shivers_ and made her skin turn to gooseflesh whenever his eyes ghosted over her (seeing her but never  _actually_  seeing her).

“I’ve had better days, Doc.” Their patient responded with a smile almost as white as his pale skin. Doctor Gold was silent for a moment, his dark eyes taking in the patient lying before him in the hospital bed and then with a quick, quiet inhale, he spoke.

“I imagine you have. But your day may yet look up, Mr. Booth.” Doctor Gold grinned and though Mr. Booth returned the smile, Belle couldn’t help but note the way the action didn’t quite reach Doctor Gold’s eyes.

His smile  _never_  reached his eyes.

Doctor Gold gave a half turn in place so he was now facing the nearly half a dozen pale, wide eyed,  _scared shitless_  young interns. His gaze raked over them in one fleeting glance, and in that moment Belle felt her cheeks flush nervously and ducked her head.

“And which of you lot can tell me why Mr. Booth has come to see us today?” He growled at them, folding his hands behind his back in a pose that was both expectant and menacing. Belle could practically feel the air in the room turn cold as her fellow interns all bowed their heads, fear of answering him incorrectly leaving their jaws clamped shut as tightly as iron vices.

Doctor Gold was notorious for making a public mockery of anyone who gave him a wrong answer on rounds and as such, he had made a game of posing questions to the interns. Supposedly, a grand total of four interns had attempted to answer him, and all had done so in ways he found inadequate. Thus, none of Belle’s year had dared try again and it had been  _weeks_.

But Doctor Gold had never posed a question to Belle’s group before; today was his first chance to attempt to torture them. And though her fingers were trembling (a fact she hid by shoving her hands into her coat pockets), Belle wasn’t about to let him think her a coward.

“Mr. Booth has dilated cardiomyopathy. His heart has been weakened by it and is unable to pump blood normally, which has led to congestive heart failure. His arrhythmias have become pronounced and have caused his condition to deteriorate, necessitating a heart transplant.” Belle finished, doing her best to balance succinctness with accuracy.

She wasn’t sure what to make of Doctor Gold’s reaction though; what she read to be a momentary flicker of surprise was quickly cast aside in favor of his usual indifferent, stony mask.

“And what is our course of treatment until Mr. Booth’s surgery?” Doctor Gold pressed, and the glint in his eyes both frightened and thrilled her. This was a test, if ever there was one, and Belle knew it was one she needed to pass.

“ACE inhibitors to maintain his current heart function, immunosuppressants in preparation for Mr. Booth’s transplant surgery and hourly monitoring to ensure that his heart condition does not deteriorate.” Belle paused, running down a list in her head and then hesitantly adding. “And we will need an updated chest x-ray, blood tests and an EKG done prior to the surgery.” She finished.

When Doctor Gold looked at Belle this time, there was no question about it – he  _definitely_ saw her now. Turning back to the patient with a humorless chuckle, he ironed out his features into a smooth smirk.

“Well Mr. Booth, I will leave you in Dr….” he trailed, casting a brief glance Belle’s way, his eyebrows raised. With a start, Belle realized he was waiting for her to say her name.

“French!” She exclaimed sharply, blushing fiercely as she regulated her voice back to a normal volume. “Doctor French.” She amended, daring to allow her eyes to land upon Doctor Gold.

“…Yes, well, I’m leaving you in Doctor French’s  _very_ capable hands until your surgery, Mr. Booth.” Doctor Gold’s face had once more become unreadable, a fact for which Belle was both thankful and yet, simultaneously sad.

“Thanks Doc!” Mr. Booth smiled.

And with that, Doctor Gold swept out of the room, but not before he allowed his eyes to bore into Belle’s with an intensity that made her heart hammer

——-

“Go make yourselves useful and for the love of all things good and holy,  _do not kill anyone_!” Doctor Nolan urged them, watching as his interns scattered like dust on the wind. All except for Belle, that was.

“Listen, I don’t know what you were playing at in there but you’ve done it now.” He warned her, speaking quickly in an undertone by the nurse’s station. “Doctor Gold doesn’t like interns. I don’t know what exactly you said or did that struck his fancy, but don’t mess up. He eats little doctors like you for breakfast and he won’t hesitate to sack you if you piss him off. And what’s more, don’t pull anything stupid – what looks bad for you looks bad for me.” Doctor Nolan finished and Belle could fill in the blanks that followed  _and you don’t need any more trouble with him than you already have_.

Belle nodded and clumsily grabbed the chart Doctor Nolan pressed into her hands before he swept off to surgery. Glancing down at the chart in her hands, Belle could only will her racing heart to steady. Her entire career could be made or broken by this case and all of it rested in the hands of a man that the rest of the hospital viewed as decidedly  _wicked_.

No pressure, right?

——-

“You’re new at this, aren’t you?” Mr. Booth smiled up from his pillow as Belle wheeled him rather inexpertly out of his private room and through the hospital for his chest x-ray. (She still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of gurneys just yet.)

“Is it that obvious?” Belle asked with an embarrassed grin, wheeling her patient’s bed a bit too wide around the corner and nearly crashing into a nurse pushing a man in a wheelchair. Belle corrected their course quickly, but the nurse still shot her a dark look as she pushed her own patient to safety.

“Fortunately for you? No, not usually.” Mr. Booth chuckled. “But when you spend as much time in hospitals as I do, you get pretty good at picking up on these things. Don’t worry; I’d say you’re doing pretty well. In all my visits, I’ve never seen anyone answer Doctor Gold to his liking.”

If Mr. Booth knew this much, then he certainly did spend a fair bit of time here in the hospital. Belle ducked her head, feeling that familiar heat in her cheeks.

“I don’t know that I necessarily answered him to his liking…” Belle amended hesitantly, replaying the scene in her head and the look in Doctor Gold’s eyes as he had swept out of the room. That look that had said he could devour her if he wanted to.

“Well, perhaps ‘liking’ is too strong a word, but you certainly surpassed his standards and left him at a loss for words to scold you with.” Her patient grinned up at her and the praise brought a flush of warmth to the young intern’s cheeks.

“Well, thank you Mr. Booth.” Belle intoned, sighing in relief as she wheeled him to a stop before the x-ray room, thankful that there wasn’t a mile long wait for the machine.

“August.” He replied, to which Belle blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment. “My name’s August, Doctor French; please, call me by it. ‘Mr. Booth’ is my father.” August grinned and Belle offered a shy smile in return. 

“Right. Well…thank you, August.” Belle corrected herself before moving his gurney as the line of patients ahead of them moved forward.

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled, reclining comfortably on his bed as he watched her critically in silence for some moments. “So, it looks like we’re gonna be going through this together. You want some tips?” He offered with a knowing grin.

“Tips? On what?” Belle grinned, enjoying the relaxed, easy give and take between the two of them. She’d had a handful of patients so far and none of them had been quite so relaxed and easygoing as August.

“On how to handle the old dragon.” August winked.

“ _The old dragon_?” There was a pause as Belle frowned and then, just as quickly, the realization dawned on her. “That’s what you call Doctor Gold?!” Belle giggled, biting her lip and glancing around nervously as soon as she’d done so. It wouldn’t do to have Doctor Gold walk around the corner right now and who knew if any of these doctors reported to him? Best to be discrete.

“Oh yeah. There’s all kinds of ways I like to get under his skin. My personal favorite is to call him Doc, but  _you’ll_  need to be a bit more subtle…” August trailed off with a chuckle.

“Me?” Belle asked, falling still quite suddenly. The idea of taunting Doctor Gold was all well and good for August Booth, but for her? Well, that was career suicide.

“Oh yeah. You’ve got his attention right now. And while the meek but bright thing might work with the residents and some of the other attendings, it won’t play well to Gold. He needs to see some spunk to think someone’s worth a damn. Why do you think Swan’s around? She challenges him more than almost anyone in this place, but they’ve got an understanding of sorts, those two.” August commented, his grin widening at mention of Doctor Swan.

“And you think I should act spunky to get his attention? I think I’ll pass. I’d rather fly under the radar as far as Gold’s concerned.” Belle explained, once again replaying his exit from the room and his eyes. Those damn eyes. She couldn’t get them out of her head.

“I don’t think you should  _act_  anything. I think you should be as brave around him as I’ve seen you be with Nolan and Swan and everyone else around here. You already showed some of that when you spoke up this morning. Do it again. I guarantee you, you won’t regret it.” August remarked knowingly and Belle could only nod faintly while she mulled the idea over in her head.

Be brave. In front of Doctor Gold.

It was an easier thing to do than to say, she thought with a nervous gulp. But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Gold walked all over everyone, but he was certainly more willing to work with and be cordial toward surgeons like Doctor Swan, who showed some spine.

Brave.

She could be brave.

Just as soon as she was done getting all of August’s tests done, that was. That would give her a solid few hours to work up the nerve necessary for holding her own against Doctor Gold.

 


	2. A Heart in Her Hands

“How are you feeling this afternoon, Mr. Booth?” Doctor Gold queried as he stalked into the room a few hours later, followed closely by Doctor David Nolan and Belle.

“As well as can be expected.” August replied, not bothering to sit up as the doctors entered his room. “So, tell me, what’s the news Doc?” He asked and Belle noticed the flicker of amusement on August’s face when he referred to Doctor Gold as such. Judging by the subtle clench of Doctor Gold’s jaw, it was definitely  _not_  a preferred title. Belle hid the smile she felt tugging at her lips as she realized this and bit back a laugh.

“Doctor French.” Doctor Gold intoned crisply, and for a moment Belle panicked, as if he had been able to read her amused thoughts and was about to discipline her for them. Belle snapped to attention, swinging her gaze to meet the Chief’s.

“Yes Chief Gold?”

“Please explain to our patient what we’ve found on his chest x-rays.” Doctor Gold demanded, motioning to the overlarge envelope in her hands. Quickly, Belle dug inside and withdrew the x-ray that she had taken August to get earlier, lifting it to the light so that August would be able to see the image.

“Well, Mr. Booth, your chest x-ray showed that your heart has enlarged, just as we suspected. You can see here,” and Belle encircled a region with her index finger to draw his attention to it, “where the enlargement has worsened since your last x-ray.” Belle murmured.

“Now, Mr. Booth – your blood results have come back clear, the EKG and echocardiogram Doctor French took you to get look as good as can be expected and as long as your kidneys and liver don’t spontaneously go into failure, it looks as though you’ll be getting your new heart this evening.” Doctor Gold said in clipped tones.

“Doctor French; please explain the procedure for Mr. Booth; I dare say he’s had a few close calls at a new heart, but he still hasn’t heard the actual nitty-gritty of the procedure itself now, have you Mr. Booth?” Doctor Gold questioned.

“I can’t say I have.” August beamed, turning to Belle expectantly. “Please  _do_ enlighten me.”

Resisting the urge to gulp back her fears, Belle scooted forward a step, casting a brief glance Doctor Gold’s way only to find he was watching her intently.  _Damn it_.

“Well… after we’ve wheeled you up to surgery, you’ll be put under general anesthesia. Doctor Gold will make a cut here,” Belle motioned to the point on her own body, “over your breastbone. While Doctor Gold is working, your body will be hooked up to a ‘heart-lung bypass machine’ which will act as a heart for you by supplying your body with blood and oxygen during the surgery.” Belle paused to take a breath, daring to give Doctor Gold a sideways glance. His face was inscrutable, as always.

“After Doctor Gold has removed your heart, he will stitch your donor heart into place and when he’s done that, we’ll disconnect you from the heart-lung bypass and let your new heart get some blood flow. He’ll then insert some tubes to drain off fluids, blood and air out of your chest. Those will be kept in place for a few days after your surgery, once your lungs have fully re-expanded. If all goes well, you could be home within a week.” Belle beamed, stepping back once she’d finished speaking.

She was too busy looking at her shoes and the floor and basically  _anything but_  Doctor Gold to notice the appraising look he gave her. It only lasted a moment, and then it was gone as the Chief turned to his patient.

“Any questions, Mr. Booth?”

“I think the  _lovely_  Doctor French has answered all of them, thank you.”

Doctor Gold nodded and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Right then; well, the next time I see you Mr. Booth, you’ll be sporting a new heart.” Doctor Gold grinned and then departed the room, careful not to let his eyes linger for  _too_  long on the little brunette intern that kept surprising him.

Doctor Nolan and Belle followed him out of the room, though not before August had flashed Belle a grin and a thumbs up of approval. She was still grinning as she closed the room door behind her and rejoined Doctor Gold and Doctor Nolan in the hall.

“Prep him for surgery and see to it that Nurse Blanchard remembers my cello music in the OR; last time I was in surgery with her I was halfway through my CABG surgery before she had the clarity of mind to put it on and I’d rather not drown in boredom with you lot for eight or more hours if I can avoid it.” Doctor Gold muttered in a jaded tone, brushing the sleeve of his lab coat dismissively. When he caught sight of Belle as she joined them though, something sparked in his eyes and he smirked darkly.

“Oh and Doctor Nolan? Do bring this one into surgery with you and not one of those other blithering idiots you call interns.” Doctor Gold sniffed. “This one has more than two brain cells to rub together; that’s more than I can say about the rest of them.” Gold growled and then turned on his heels and walked off with a flourish of his lab coat.

——-

“Are you  _kidding me_?!” Ruby exclaimed, her ketchup dipped french fry suddenly forgotten at the halfway point from Ruby’s tray of food to her mouth.

“No, he asked Doctor Nolan to let me scrub in. Well, he didn’t really  _ask_  so much as he  _told_ Doctor Nolan, poor guy.” Belle murmured as she devoured her turkey club sandwich.

“Damn; a heart transplant. I’ve never seen one before. I mean, not in person, anyway.” Ruby mused aloud, suddenly regaining her appetite as she munched away at her fries and soda.

“I know, neither have I. I’m terrified. I  _know_  he’s going to ask me to do something and I’m not going to know how. He’s been testing me all along, Ruby.” Doctor Gold might have given her a great opportunity to learn today, but Belle was beginning to feel as if he’d only given her this much rope so he could enjoy watching her hang herself with it.

“How long do you have before you have to take your patient down and scrub in?” Ruby queried.

“Twenty minutes.” Belle choked out as she swallowed another bite of food. “I’ve already been through everything I could find on heart transplants and possible complications specific to dilated cardiomyopathy.” Belle groaned, still feeling woefully unprepared.

If she screwed this up, Doctor Gold would  _eat her alive._

“Yikes.” Ruby muttered, a response which made Belle drop her sandwich and stare wide eyed at her best friend and roommate.

“ _Yikes?_  Ruby, I’m already freaking out, I don’t need yikes, I need a pep talk!” Belle exclaimed, her voice rising with nerves as she succumbed to the stress, panic and nerves that were all assaulting her.

“Okay, okay you’re right!” Ruby reacted quickly, pushing aside her tray of food to grab Belle’s arm and give it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this. You’re the smartest of our year Belle. Gold wouldn’t have asked for you if he thought you were incompetent. Besides, from what you’ve said he treats you a hell of a lot better than Doctor Nolan. He _must_  think you’ve got talent. So just…breathe. You’ll do fine.” Ruby stated firmly.

Belle exhaled slowly and nodded as she offered Ruby an apologetic, sheepish smile.

“You’re right. Sorry for losing it there.”

“Freaking out is justified when you’re going into an eight hour surgery with Doctor Gold.” Ruby winked. Belle’s stomach gave a little flip at the idea.

“Oh gosh, don’t remind me. Talk to me about something else before I leave. How’s General treating you so far?” Belle inquired in an attempt to distract herself.

Ruby simply shrugged in response as she pulled her tray back to her and munched on a few more fries.

“Doctor Swan’s like you said; she’s to the point and sharp but she seems like she’ll be a good teacher and she’s very fair…” Ruby trailed and Belle could sense something was amiss.

“But…? Ruby, what’s up?”

“Well. Y’know how you said she can be moody on days when her boyfriend isn’t doing so well?”

Belle nodded, recalling that, during her one month rotation in general, Doctor Swan had, on more than one occasion, been particularly hostile and the cause had been her boyfriend’s deteriorating health.

“Well, he must not being too well, because about an hour and a half ago she took a call and since then she’s been grumpy.” Ruby shrugged, clearly not too bothered by Doctor Swan’s behavior, more so sorry for the woman. “Overall it’s going well though. I like general a hell of a lot better than Obstetrics.” Ruby shuddered and Belle could only smile and laugh. Ruby had learned quickly that cesarean sections and the like were not her forte and the month long obstetrics rotation had been a trial.

“So you’re still set on trauma then?” Belle asked between bites of her sandwich.

“Mmhmm.” Ruby nodded as she sipped at her drink. “Blood and guts, I can deal with. Babies shooting out of people? That’s another matter entirely. I’ll take gore over newborns any day. My kingdom for a spot as a trauma surgeon.” Ruby grinned. “What about you, Belle?”

Belle paused and frowned. She’d enjoyed obstetrics and general, but the idea of delivering babies for the rest of her life didn’t get her blood pumping. General had been alright. And cardio? Well, less than one day in and cardio was giving her ulcers.

“Still waiting. I want a specialty that’s mysterious. Something I have to work to uncover. A challenge, an adventure. Y’know?”

Ruby just shook her head and laughed.

“Well, for now you have a heart transplant to get to. I’d call that adventure enough for one day.” Ruby teased and Belle’s eyes widened as she checked her phone for the time.

“Gotta run!”

“Go, good luck!” Ruby grinned as she waved goodbye to her friend.

——-

Patience.

She’d always been told it was a virtue, but never had Belle really, fully appreciated just how true that sentiment was until she got into the operating room with Doctor Gold. Even with a friendly surgeon, a procedure of eight hours was a marathon for a fresh faced intern like her. But with Doctor Gold standing next to her and studying her every move?

Minutes felt like  _years._

He’d allowed Doctor Nolan to make the opening cuts and it had been apparent that there had been some struggle to do so. When finally, August was open his chest cavity exposed, Doctor Gold snatched up the scalpel and beckoned for Doctor Nolan to get out of the way, irritation evident on what little of his face was visible beneath the mask and cap.

“Tell me Doctor French, why was Mr. Booth’s chest so difficult for Doctor Nolan to open?” He inquired as he began, his fingers flying masterfully. This was officially the halfway point of the entire procedure, the donor heart having been removed earlier, and Doctor Gold looked none the worse for wear.

Belle bit back the ‘umm’ that had been at the back of her throat, aware that the word irritated Doctor Gold immensely. She swallowed hard and then forced herself to speak up, though she kept her eyes on August’s now exposed heart the entire time.

“Mr. Booth has had previous surgeries and so he has a build-up of scar tissue that can complicate opening his chest and any surgeries in this vicinity in general.” Belle managed to choke out as she watched Doctor Gold literally cradling August’s heart. She suddenly felt a thrilling rush of adrenaline coursing through her as she watched the deteriorated organ fluttering in Gold’s hands.

Never,  _never_  had Belle envisioned what it might feel like to hold a living, beating heart between two hands, elbow deep in someone’s body. To most, it might have been a morbid thought. But right here, witnessing Doctor Gold holding the very essence of life in his hands?

Belle had never felt more  _alive_.

She was so engrossed in watching him handle the heart that she had forgotten to pay attention, but she realized he was talking to her.

“-and for that reason we have how many anastomoses, Doctor French?” More questions. More of a test.  _Shit_. She’d missed whatever he’d said previously.

Directing her attention away from the heart in his hands, she decided that the safer (albeit more intimidating) location for her to stare at was his face. Her wide blue eyes took in his dark, expectant ones and she gulped, trying to think back to her reading.

“F-five, Doctor Gold. Five anastomoses must be completed.” She replied

“And their purpose?”

“To…well, the suture lines connect the large blood vessels that lead to and from the heart.” Belle managed, feeling that her answers were slowly growing progressively less satisfying. Doctor Gold showed no signs of displeasure, however and instead motioned her closer as he scooped up the bovie in his free hand, the other still cradling the heart.

“Doctor French, please put your left hand on the pericardial sack here and cradle the pulmonary trunk with your right, if you please.” He directed, without showing her where on the heart he wanted her hands –  _another test_ , this one of her knowledge of heart anatomy, it seemed.

She moved forward willingly, glad that at least her hands weren’t shaking with nerves as she took the heart in her hands. Her own heart hammered in time with August’s as she watched Gold cut off the blood supply and hook August’s body up to the machine that would keep him alive for the next few hours.

——-

He really wasn’t quite certain what the  _hell_  he was doing. He  _never_  carried on like this during surgery. He permitted those present with him to hold quiet conversations of their own, but Doctor Gold himself was generally silent in surgery, only speaking to request a needed instrument or to bark orders when things started going wrong.

Yet, here he was questioning the little French girl. Initially, he’d been intent on breaking her, the one intern who’d shown enough spine to attempt to answer him when word of mouth would surely have told her to think better of it. But now, many correctly answered questions and hours later, she was still exceeding his expectations.

And what’s more?

It had stopped feeling like a chore to question her some hours and countless cuts of the scalpel ago. She was bright, not only for an intern, but a surgeon in general. He hadn’t seen anyone with the kind of raw talent and overwhelming knowledge she possessed in…well, he doubted he’d  _ever_  seen her equal, really. Doctor Mills knew her shit, but she was a bitch of a woman who took far too much pleasure in making that first cut on her patients. Doctor Swan was hardworking and bright, but certainly not as naturally gifted as wee little Doctor French. Besides those two, none of the other surgeons on his staff came close to holding a candle to this spritely intern.

And while it was encouraging to finally have a mind that he viewed as worthy of cultivating and nurturing with experience and knowledge, he found he was struggling to even continue questioning her, let alone focus on the surgery. His eyes kept slowly drifting back to the young woman at his side. Fortunately, most of the time her bright blue eyes were trained on the heart in his hands, otherwise she might have noticed and been bothered by how this surgeon who was probably twice her age kept…well,  _ogling_  at her.

It was entirely inappropriate, for a plethora of reasons – their age difference, her innocence juxtaposed against his extreme lack thereof, and the very minor detail that relationships between hospital staff and the interns was strictly forbidden. The divide between them should have been palpable; Gold valued his career far too much to risk it all on a tryst with some woman-child that would probably turn around and blackmail him for it later.

But still, all the logical reasoning could not stop him from allowing his eyes to rove. He could not stop his imagination from running rampant at the notion of how such naturally skillful hands as hers could be put to such good use outside of an operating room.

And so, distracted as he was by these impure thoughts, Doctor Gold struggled to finish the surgery, anxious to be done and away from the off-putting little minx and yet, simultaneously dragging his feet to prolong his time spent in her company.

——-

For what felt like an eternity and a second all at once, Belle assisted Doctor Gold in the heart transplant. All was going well (a fact which she suspected Doctor Nolan was not particularly thankful for as he watched, relegated to the sidelines by his own intern and unable to raise a word of complaint because this was  _Doctor Gold_  and what he wanted, he damn well _got_ ). That was, all was going well  _until Belle messed up_.

They’d gotten August’s old heart out just fine and she’d been allowed to put the new heart in place and hold it for Doctor Gold as he stitched the anastomoses (five, just as she’d said) into place to hold the donor heart in place for its new recipient.

They’d begun to allow blood to flow into the new heart again and it wasn’t responding as was desired. She could see the displeasure etched on Doctor Gold’s face as he snarled silently to the organ, almost willing it to function. Belle stared at the heart, willing it to pick up her own heart’s tempo when Doctor Gold barked at her.

“French, get in there, he needs a cardiac massage.” He growled. “Nurse Blanchard, bring me that cart, I need to find something.” He snapped at the scrub nurse, who nodded and quickly whirled off to a corner of the room. That didn’t matter though. All Belle could focus on at that moment was the heart she was now compressing and releasing dutifully to try and coax it into a healthy rhythm.

After a few moments of massaging August’s heart, the monitors began to go off and suddenly Doctor Gold was beside her and placed one of his hands on top of hers. After he felt the strength with which she was pressing on the heart, he threw her back with a snarl of disdain, flinging her hand away from August’s heart with gentle but firm force.

“ _Damn it girl._ Get away from the patient.” He hissed, assuming the duties of massaging the heart with practiced hands. Belle stumbled backward, staring at her bloodied, gloved hands as Doctor Gold tried to repair whatever damage she’d done. For the life of her, she still didn’t know what she’d done wrong until Doctor Gold began to speak through gritted teeth.

“You were squeezing his heart so hard he went into tachycardia. You could have destroyed this heart. You could have  _killed him_.” He growled, tearing his eyes off of the heart long enough to shoot her a withering glare. And oh,  _how she withered_.

“I-I’m sorry Doctor Gold, I’ve never done a cardiac massage before, I didn’t know-”

“Your technical knowledge shortcomings do not interest me, Doctor French.” He retorted sharply. “You will not touch my patient again today. Go. Get out of my OR.” He directed, turning his blistering gaze away from her.

Belle felt her cheeks go red in embarrassment as she ducked her head and fled the OR. She ripped her gloves and surgical gown off and threw them in the trash along with her mask, breathing heavily as she flung herself into the scrub room and washed up, trying to hold back the tears threatening to overwhelm her.

As soon as she was done, she leaned back against the wall. Everything in her screamed that she should flee, but deep, deep down she could still hear August’s voice telling her she needed to be brave.

So it was that when Doctor Gold had finished the surgery and came to scrub out, he found the brunette intern he’d verbally thrashed was waiting for him uneasily. He ignored her and began to wash up until she spoke up.

“Doctor Gold? I…I’m sorry that I messed up. I should have told you I had never massaged a heart before. But I-”

“Doctor French I have no time for the ineptitudes of an intern. My surgical career means more to me than you and your education, so do forgive me if I don’t request your presence in my OR anytime soon.” Doctor Gold retorted, intentionally averting his gaze until the very last moment. For the briefest second, he allowed his eyes to rove over the brunette’s slight frame, impressed beyond measure with the audacity of this bright little intern, but not about to let on to her.

And just like that, he marched out of the room, leaving a very deflated and frustrated Belle in his wake. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears fiercely as the rest of the surgical team slowly filed out. Belle did not move until a warm hand enclosed around her left arm, jolting her to the present.

Doctor Nolan was staring at her with surprisingly warm, kind eyes and he offered her a small, understanding smile.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’s brilliant, but he’s a bastard. I’ve never seen him take an interest in  _anyone_ the way he has with you though.” He gave her arm a little squeeze and then let it go, though he held her gaze. “It’s a compliment that he let you do as much as he did – I’ve never heard of him requesting an intern join him in surgery, let alone offering one the opportunity to participate. If he was  _really_  angry, he would have banished you from his OR. This is just his way of telling you he thinks you have promise.”

And just like that, a very dazed, confused and emotionally  _exhausted_  Belle was left to stare in wonder after Doctor Nolan as the custodial staff came through to clean up the surgery room.

Doctor Gold thought she had promise?

Well. That was…that was not at all what she’d been expecting. She’d have to discuss this with August. Tomorrow, of course – seeing him today might be asking a little too much of Doctor Gold’s good graces. Hopefully her patient would have more insights to offer than she did as to why the ‘old dragon’ would have behaved so in the operating room if he thought she had promise. Yelling and throwing her out seemed an odd way for Doctor Gold to bestow favor on her.  

Still, the idea that he thought she had promise gave her a wealth of warm, tingling butterflies in her stomach.  _She had promise_. In the eyes of the meanest, most scrutinizing, judgmental doctor in this hospital,  _she had talent_.


	3. The No Fraternization Policy

As he left the scrub room, Doctor Gold tried to focus on breathing but found it rather difficult when each breath within Belle French’s proximity was tainted with whatever shampoo she used, or her lotion or perfume or  _whatever the hell it was_  that made her smell so  _damn good_.

He had been so anxious to get away from Doctor French, he had been particularly sharp. Well, not sharp by his standards, but certainly far harsher than he’d ever been with  _her_ before. He regretted the cruelness of his words as soon as they left his mouth and the force of his touch as he pushed her away. But the fact that he’d been too distracted by her to think clearly had utterly  _terrified_  him.

He’d let her, an inexperienced  _intern_ , play far too advanced a role in a procedure far beyond her skill set, brilliant young mind or no. And because of it, the donor heart had nearly been compromised and with it, his surgical career.

He’d needed space. It was that fact, more so than his anger or fear that had prompted him to demand that she leave. And though the words had taste vile on his tongue, as soon as she had left the operating room, his head had cleared enough to go on and finish the procedure.

Belle…well, there was really only one way to describe her.  _She was a parasite_. She’d crept up on him unawares and latched herself onto him in some deep, dark corner that he’d long forgotten ever existed inside him (funny that a heart surgeon could forget he had a heart to be stolen). She’d begun to eat him up inside; she invaded his thoughts, she stole his attention, she’d claimed his affections and now she’d begun to steal his knowledge of their profession. She was a damn parasite alright, unwittingly leeching the life out of him with a smile. And what’s more?

He fucking  _liked_  it.

He  _liked_  to daydream about her. He  _liked_  to find himself regarding her with affection, he _liked_  that he grew possessive over her. He  _liked_  having her consuming virtually every aspect of his life. And it was a problem

But all he could do was grin like an idiot about her when no one was around to see. The problem was, as he walked down the hall and toward his office,  _someone was around to see_.

“Someone’s in a good mood. I was expecting you to be a bit more… _irritable_ , given that your surgery had a few bumps in the road.” The silky voice could belong to only one individual and had him bristling as he closed his office door behind him, staring at his desk chair, which was currently turned away from him, the back hiding the features of the person sitting on it.

“Doctor Mills. To what do I owe the  _pleasure_?” He snarled as he stalked forward and shoved his chair so it swiveled to face him. Regina sneered up at him, entirely too pleased and _clearly_  too well informed about the events that had just transpired in Gold’s OR.

“Oh I just thought I’d come check and see how you were doing. I heard you almost lost your patient. Intern error, hmm?” She was glorying in this, wretched hag that she was. If she wasn’t so well renowned for her skills as a heart surgeon, he would have washed his hands of Regina long ago.

“Hardly. It was a minor blip in an otherwise flawless procedure.” He managed through gritted teeth, watching her with sharp eyes. He didn’t know what Regina’s angle was here, but he knew all too well just how keen she was on having his job for herself. Was that what she was playing at? Trying to rattle him because his surgery hadn’t gone exactly according to plan?

She was sadly mistaken if she thought him that easily shaken.

“Mmm, indeed.” Regina mused, still lounging languidly in his chair. “I heard you let that little intern assist you a great deal. Even let her do a cardiac massage?” Regina was practically  _purring_ , but Gold knew well that she was no kitten – she was a tigress, eager for bloodshed and the kill. She was  _not_ to be trusted.

“I overestimated her abilities, it would seem.” His words grew stiff at the mention of Belle, and suddenly warning lights were going off in his head.  _Fucking Regina_.

“Apparently. I do wonder how that is, you being  _so careful_ and all. It seems the girl’s gotten under your skin. Compromised your better judgment, one might say.” She grinned and this time she didn’t bother to hide the wickedness of her glee. “Don’t forget, _Chief_ Gold, the hospital does have a rather strict ‘no fraternization’ policy where interns and hospital staff are concerned…” Regina trailed and Gold felt his anger blaze up.

Of course this bitch, with all her eyes and ears about the hospital, would dare to assume (correctly) that he had been eying the young intern.  _Fuck_.

“Hardly.” He needed an escape route here and fast. He could  _not, would not_  sacrifice Belle, though doing so would have made protecting himself much easier. Instead, he turned to the best alternative at his disposal - manipulating Regina. “You see, the girl’s bookishly bright, but utterly useless in surgery. I was attempting to mold something out of her after Nolan said she didn’t stand a prayer of becoming a surgeon, but as you can see, that went rather awry. I doubt she’ll make it the full year if even my superior teaching couldn’t improve her.”

Regina was nothing if not predictable. She liked trouncing all over his authority at every given opportunity and here he was telling her that Belle was a student incapable of learning because he couldn’t teach her, thereby insinuating that he was the best teacher in the hospital.

Regina bristled for a moment as she took in the information and then a smile slid stealthily across her lips.

“Is that so? And I suppose you think  _you_  are the most suited to teach her?”

“Well I am the Chief.” He grinned back with a flourish of his hands, the glint of malice in his eyes only ruffling her feathers more.

“Yes. You are.” Regina pursed her lips for a moment and then spoke up again, falling into his trap so perfectly it almost seemed planned. “I’ll make you a deal.” He perked up considerably, biting back the smile that threatened his features.  _Checkmate_. For a woman so bent on winning, Regina barely seemed to notice they were playing a game.

“Oh? What for?”

“The girl. If I can get her to pass her first year exam, I get my department’s budget increased.”

“And if you fail? What’s in it for me, dearie? The girl’s a trifle not worth my concern.” He tutted, though the clench of his heart told him this was a blatant lie.

“She won’t fail.” Regina remarked smugly, but Doctor Gold only shook his head.

“No no, I need an incentive here Doctor Mills. Let’s say that if the girl fails her exams, then you will have to defer to Doctor Swan over the course of treatment for that orphan boy patient you two both fancy so much. What’s his name? Henry, something or another, isn’t it?” Gold grinned maliciously and now it was Regina’s turn to be surprised by the amount of knowledge  _Gold_  had amassed from  _his_  eyes and ears around the hospital.

Regina blanched for a moment but quickly recovered her composure, sweeping a façade of neutrality onto her face. It was a weak mask though and he saw right through it. The idea of having to acquiesce to Doctor Swan had Regina near rabid with rage.

“Fine. It’s a deal.” She snapped, glaring up at him sharply.

“Lovely.” He cooed, leaning his face down to Regina’s level. “Now Doctor Mills. Vacate my chair and my office.  _Please_.” He added with a hiss. She bristled outwardly and for a moment their gazes were dueling looks of loathing, but Regina gave in and stood to depart the chair and his office quickly after. As the door closed behind her, Gold released the breath he’d been holding with a sigh and tried to calm the erratic beating of his heart.

Yes, he’d thrown Regina off his trail for a bit. But she’d also reminded him of one looming issue that he’d forgotten. The hospital had a  _very_  unyielding policy that  _strictly_ stated there could be no romantic relationships,  _no fraternizing_  between hospital staff (such as himself) and hospital interns (such as Belle).

 _Fuck_. 

—————

After the disaster that had been August’s heart transplant, Belle had done her best to avoid Doctor Gold. Fortunately, Doctor Gold had opted not to participate in morning rounds with the group anymore and Doctor Nolan, after several arguments with Doctor Gold, it seemed, had transferred to General Surgery.

As such, Belle had found herself under the tutelage of Doctor Regina Mills.

In terms of skill and renown, Doctor Mills was second only to Doctor Gold in the hospital; she was a brilliant heart surgeon who had won more than her fair share of awards and various forms of recognition for her work in the field.

However, no one could say that she’d won any awards for her  _personality_. The woman was positively  _wretched_  and again, in this area she was second only to Doctor Gold. She was short tempered, demanding and possessed unnaturally high expectations of her interns. Even Belle, who had excelled in her general and obstetrics rotations, was struggling to keep her head above water.

She doubted she was impressing Doctor Mills any more than she had Doctor Gold. Doctor Mills was always grilling her on procedures and such and whenever Belle didn’t know an answer, Doctor Mills wasn’t shy about mocking her for it. More than once, Belle had found herself in one of the small on call rooms, hands balled into fists as she bit back tears.

She never cried in front of Doctor Mills though. Belle refused to give the woman that satisfaction. No, she wore her brave face around the unkind doctor, and allowed herself to be bullied by her. Besides, as bad as Doctor Mills was to deal with, Belle was still learning a tremendous amount. And though Doctor Mills’ verbal abuse was dreadful, anything that she harassed Belle about, Belle  _never_  forgot. So there were some advantages to interning for her, Belle supposed.

One definite  _disadvantage_  to working for Doctor Mills though?

The nursing staff. Doctor Mills insisted on having her own specially trained group of nurses. (When you were a world renowned heart surgeon, Belle supposed such requests were granted.) Amongst those nurses was  _Gregory_   _Gaston_.

Belle simply called him Gaston. Most people were referred to by their last names and so she made a point of doing the same for him. Use of his first name might imply familiarity or a willingness to know him, both of which were distinctly untrue in Belle’s case.

He was the most obnoxious nurse she’d ever met. He seemed to enjoy being one of the few male nurses on staff if for no other reason than it apparently made him come off as more vulnerable and approachable to some women.  _Belle was not among them_. He was a creep by her standards and she had no interest in talking with him. But inevitably, he would be assigned to the patients she was and so, work with him she did.

“Good morning, Belle.” He purred as she walked up to the nurse’s station. Belle’s jaw tightened in displeasure and she replied to him in clipped tones.

“It’s  _Doctor French,_ Gaston.” She responded firmly. “Now please hand me Mr. Booth’s chart.” She requested, offering an empty hand to him since Gaston was blocking her access to the charts.

“Ohh, old Autumn, hmm?” Gaston grinned. He thought his nickname for August was terribly clever. Belle did not share his opinion.

“August Booth, yes. Now may I  _please_  have his chart?” Belle requested again, pointedly offering her open hand to accept a file. Instead, Gaston took her hand in his and gave a soft tug so she was standing closer to him as he leered down at her.

“Oh yes. Mr. Booth. Right here.” He intoned silkily, guiding her hand to the appropriate file. Belle wrenched away from his touch and stormed off, file in hand and trembling with anger and disgust.

Several women had attempted to file sexual harassment complaints about Gaston, both of them nurses from elsewhere in the hospital. They’d been fired soon after, when Regina Mills had found some fault with them. Apparently Gaston was an ‘integral cog’ on Regina’s nursing staff machine and it wouldn’t do to have him fired.

Even if he was a sniveling, greasy bastard.

And while Belle could be brave with the best of them (her time with Doctor Gold had taught her that much), she wasn’t about to risk getting herself fired just because a creep like Gaston wanted to play at holding hands.

Besides, she could handle scum like him. As long as he kept his hands to himself, she could deal. What she  _couldn’t_  deal with, however, was when, a few minutes after she’d entered August’s room and begun taking his blood pressure and making other important notes, Gaston followed her in under the pretense of changing August’s pillows.

August frowned but permitted the intrusion, though he gave Belle a quizzical look which she answered with a shake of her head. She rushed through her notes and after ensuring that August was feeling well and his incision site was looking good, she fled the room, Gaston hot on her heels.

“Belle!” He grinned, grabbing her right wrist in his hand. “Hold up there speedy. There’s no rush. You’re done with your rounds early and I just so happen to be free. And, Doctor Mills won’t be by for another twenty minutes.” He beamed and Belle felt nauseous.

“I have charts I could be updating, Gaston.” Belle responded, attempting unsuccessfully to wrench away from his grasp.

“The charts will keep. Come on. On call room’s all empty. What do you say  _I_  take  _your_ heart rate, hmm?” Oh he thought he was  _so fucking clever_. Belle frowned and jerked away from him again, but his grasp was strong and she was equally unsuccessful. Now, out of the corners of her eyes, she could see people beginning to gather. Great. They were attracting attention. Just what she needed.  _Not_.

“Gaston, let me go. I’m  _not_  interested.” She growled lowly. With a wrench of her arm, she freed herself from his grasp and stormed off without a backward glance.

She was so intent on getting away from him, Belle missed what happened next.

—————

It had been four days since the surgery and he’d done his very best to avoid her, instead he’d opted to lock himself up in his office and catch up on paperwork and balance budgets. But when that had been done and his mind had been left to wander, he’d kept coming back to  _her_.

Regina’s insistence that Doctor Nolan be moved out of cardio had been a minor blip, nothing too concerning. Doctor Nolan had huffed and tried to throw a fit, but ultimately he’d accepted his new assignment. The process of finding a new resident would take time, but Gold had left that up to Regina.

Instead, his focus had been on having his secretary, a ditzy little blonde by the name of Ashley, funnel him information about Belle.

Well, not Belle precisely, but just the word in the hospital about Regina, her patients, her interns, etc. From the gossip his incompetent little assistant had managed to procure, Gold had managed to learn that she and another intern (one currently on Swan’s service) were roommates. Belle was doing very well despite Regina’s bitching and the patient that had nearly died on his table, one August Booth, had recovered well from surgery with no adverse side effects.

It wasn’t much to go on, but between Ashley’s scraps and Regina’s gloating about Belle’s progress, he’d been able to learn she was doing well and seemed no worse for wear despite his rude treatment of her in surgery. And to top it off, she was receiving very intentional teaching from Regina who, raging bitch or no, was a  _very_  talented surgeon who stood to pass along a great deal of knowledge to Belle. The idea pleased him and had him itching to see for himself how Belle’s education was progressing.

As such, Gold had ventured out of his office today intent on making an appearance to check on his patient and perhaps catch sight of Belle from afar, of course. Instead, he’d arrived just in time for the show. He’d watched, his hands balling into fists, as a male nurse had grabbed at her. Instantly Gold’s blood had begun to boil; one did not touch Belle roughly and one  _especially_  did not touch Belle when the contact was unwanted.

As the feisty brunette beat a hasty retreat from her would be on-call room escapade partner, Gold lunged forward, something primal spurring him forward. His hand clasped on the nurse’s shoulder, holding him back

“Now now, I think the little lamb has made her opinions on the matter perfectly clear.” Doctor Gold hissed. The male nurse in question whirled to face him, his features contorted in rage as he batted away Gold’s hand, only to belatedly realize who it was that had grabbed him.

“Oh! Chief Gold, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“To assault a senior ranking hospital staff member? I should think you didn’t mean to my dear boy, but that by no means changes the fact that you did. I’m afraid I shall have to let you go.” Doctor Gold chided, awash with childish glee at the look of horror and contempt that overtook the nurse’s features when he processed the chief’s words.

“Wait, what? Assault? I didn’t assault you, I bumped your hand-”

“Well and then there’s the small matter of the sexual harassment I just witnessed. I wonder which do you think would seem the worse crime to prospective employers – assault or sexual harassment? Hmm…” Doctor Gold mused, making an utter mockery of this man for the whole surgical floor to see.

“What? No,  _you can’t fire me_!” The man in question shouted, his face flushed with anger and Doctor Gold could barely contain his merriment and really, why bother? He unleashed a nasty smile, leaning in closer to the taller, more imposing male figure.

“Oh, but I can, dearie. And I just did.” He chortled, turning on his heel to depart. He ignored the nurse’s shouting and walked down the hall to summon security. Gold directed them to remove the nurse in question and also left them with instructions to learn his full name – Gold would  _probably_  need to know that  _minor_  detail so he could terminate all employee benefits and put a note in the man’s file. He would ensure that the nurse in question didn’t get a job anywhere within a thousand miles of this hospital (and more importantly, Belle).

No one,  _no one_ , would  _ever_  be permitted to touch Belle like that and get away with it.

—————

It was not until she stopped to eat a quick bite with Ruby that Belle got the story.

The cafeteria was packed and it took Belle a moment to realize why – for perhaps the first time in a month, they had taken lunch at roughly the same time as the rest of the world. As such, the cafeteria overflowed with the family and friends of patients and various hospital staff members as they all tried to find space to eat.

“Look, there’s just one person at that table, maybe she won’t mind company.” Ruby pointed out with a sly grin. She darted off before Belle could comment and soon enough she waved for Belle to follow; apparently the young blonde woman had said she would not mind company.

“Hello.” Belle smiled warmly to her and the blonde returned with a shy smile of her own.

“Hello. My name’s Ashley.” She extended a hand to Belle, who shook it firmly.

“Belle French. I’m a surgical intern with Ruby here.” Belle explained as the pair sat down.

“Oh!” Ashley exclaimed, her mouth forming a little ‘o’ of surprise. “I know you two. I’ve seen your names come across Doctor Gold’s desk before.” Ruby and Belle shared a confused glance for a moment until Ashley explained. “I’m Chief Gold’s secretary. I handle a lot of his paperwork, so I see stuff on interns and residents and attendings all the time. So I recognize your names. It’s nice to have faces to put to them though.” She beamed.

Ruby, ever the more socially able, was quick to maintain the conversation.

“Doctor Gold’s secretary, huh? How’s  _that_? I haven’t personally worked with him, but he seems kind of…  _beastly_. Belle had to deal with him once though, didn’t you Belle?” Ruby mentioned, offering Belle an opportunity to join the conversation.

She nodded silently though, not really feeling like discussing her interactions with Doctor Gold. Belle wasn’t particularly fond of the fluttering, bubbling, stomach-upsetting host of emotions that filled her at mention of the Chief of Surgery.

“Oh well, yes he does have a bit of a temper and he’s not always easy to work for. But he’s not all bad. He has his moments, every once in a rare while.” Ashley returned haltingly, as if afraid her boss would pop up around a corner and yell at her for speaking kindly of him.

“Doctor Gold, being kind?  _That_  I have a hard time believing.” Ruby snorted into her lunch tray. Belle pursed her lips thoughtfully, finding the image far less difficult to conjure than Ruby seemed to.

“He has his own way of being kind, I think.” Ashley mused, and she might have stolen the words from Belle’s head, for she had just been thinking the same thing.

“Why do you say that?” She asked, curious as to what had prompted such a comment from the flighty little woman.

“Oh well, I mean take today for instance. He fired that Nurse, Gaston or something? And I’ve heard from some of the other nurses that he was  _dreadful_ , always making passes at them. I guess he did the same thing to one of the doctors today and when Gaston went to follow her when she walked off, Doctor Gold stepped in and fired him. Regina was furious, of course. She came storming to his office right after it happened and yelled at me and then him, but that was something sort of kind he did that he didn’t have to do.” Ashley shrugged, oblivious to the fact that both Belle and Ruby had tensed.

Of course Belle had already told Ruby the story of Gaston’s latest advances. And knowing Ruby, she was probably trying to make mountains out of molehills regarding what Doctor Gold’s motivation could have been for firing him. She could feel her roommate’s eyes on her as she slowly swallowed the bite of food she’d been chewing.

“That…that  _was_ very nice of him.” Belle murmured, her appetite gone. There was only one person she really wanted to talk to right now. And he was  _not_  seated at this table. “If you’ll excuse me, I forgot, I have to do something.” She explained. Ashley merely beamed up at her, completely ignorant of the look Ruby was giving Belle.

“Belle, do you think-”

“I’ll talk with you later!” Belle chirped nervously. She rushed to dispose of her tray of food and then, with hurried but measured steps, she departed the cafeteria and began to make her way toward his office.

Belle took a deep breath and steeled herself. She was about to enter a dragon’s lair and she needed all her courage if she was going to actually do this. Her fingers touched on the door handle and before she could talk herself out of it, Belle shoved the door open and found herself face to face with Doctor Gold once again.

Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, her breath caught in her throat and for a moment, she forgot why she’d come here, storming into his office like a lunatic. But as his eyes lifted to meet hers with a flicker of surprise and something else, something she struggled to identify, she slowly came back to life.

“Chief Gold? …We need to talk.” She stated boldly, closing his office door behind her with a loud ‘click’…


	4. Skills Lab

Of all the individuals he’d expected to walk through his door, Belle French had not been amongst them. The nitwit nurse (‘Gregory Gaston’, he’d been informed when preparing his severance package) whom he had fired? Certainly. Regina Mills, come to rage because he’d gotten rid of one of her precious nurses? Absolutely.

But Belle? Sweet, brave little intern Belle whose mistreatment at the hands of the nurse had prompted Gold to fire the man?

No, he had not expected her here, in his office, her eyes wide and bright, oscillating between courage and fear as she said they needed to talk. He hadn’t been able to hide his initial shock and, he feared, his  _pleasure_  at having her show up, but he quickly stuffed those feelings away. Certainly if she knew the truth, she’d only be frightened.

“Is that so, Doctor…French, was it?”  _Fuck_. He was a right bastard for that comment, but after Regina’s little reminder that acting on his feelings could get him fired? Well, after that, it seemed that the better course of action to protect them  _both_  was to feign disinterest.

_Feign_  being the key word – he knew that he could lie and act as if she was nothing to him until he was blue in the face. But it would still just take one glance, one touch, and he’d be falling all over again. It couldn’t be helped – in all his years inside and outside of this hospital, in all his experience with life and death, in one marriage and subsequent divorce, he’d never,  _never_  been made to feel like this before. He was as stone; unmoved and unchanged by time. But if he was stone, then Belle French was as Donatello or Michelangelo, a sculptor come with hammer and chisel to shape him into something _feeling_  and  _gentle_  and  _new_.

 “Y-yes sir. Doctor French.” She confirmed with an awkward dip of her head that had been intended to be a nod. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing here now. What had she thought would come of this? What had she hoped to gain?

For several seconds they stared at each other, neither of them saying a word or making any move to end the awkward stalemate. It was he who finally caved as he dropped her gaze to return his eyes to his paperwork, making notes with quick, jagged swipes of his pen before he stood and circled around to her side of his desk and leaned against it, looking at her with an affected lazy stare.

“Well then Doctor French, out with it. I’m a very busy man. What was so important for us to discuss that it could not wait long enough for you to even knock, let alone set up an appointment, hmm?”

He could barely think straight; it was like the operating room all over again. He should have been plowing through mounds of paperwork, he should have been checking up on patients, he should have been balancing the budget. He should have been doing a million different things, but having an impromptu meeting with the intern that he was falling for was certainly not one of them.

But she was  _here_  and she was  _close_  and  _they were breathing the same air._  The thought alone was enough to strain his last, fraying wire of self control. All he wanted, all he _needed_ was to kiss her until she was breathless. And then he would hold her close to him, face to face, just drawing air so close that each and every gasp for air would be shared.

_Damn it_. He needed to be stronger than this; he’d let his mind wander and now he was visibly trembling, the tremors in his hands betraying his own inner weakness. He needed an outlet, and fast, or there was no telling what he’d do.

“Sir, I just wanted to ask you a question. About Nurse Gaston’s firing?” She prompted and he felt his heart sink. He’d fired that grabby little prick and now she was here to beg for his job back? Of course, he should have seen this coming. She probably had feelings for the oaf; most of the women on staff found him attractive. It would not be strange for her to find him pleasing to the eye too, or to perhaps even have feelings for the fool.

The pain he felt at that thought prompted him to pick an outlet – his pen. Plucking it from his breast pocket, he twirled it as fast as he could, trying to channel all his frustration and energy into keeping that pen in perpetual motion. He needed his fingers to be kept busy, to keep his hands from shaking at the idea of watching this little flower go to wither in the arms of a man like  _Nurse Gaston_.

“What about it Doctor French? As I recall, human resources is a bit beyond your pay grade.” He muttered in clipped tones, trying not to think about how much better off she’d be in _his_  arms than in that nitwit nurse’s. Which was certainly the case because  _why else would she be here_  if not to beg for the nurse’s job back?

_None of that now_. Twirl the pen.  _Just twirl the damn pen_. Idle hands were the devil’s handiwork and heavens help him, he would not be the one to make this little angel fall. Twirl the pen. Think of anything other than her eyes, her lips, her face.  _Anything_.

“Yes, I…well, of course it is, I was just…” Belle sighed, her ridiculously tiny hands balled up into fists as she frowned and bit at her lip before she spoke up again. “He was fired right after we had our… _altercation_  and there were rumors that the reasoning behind his firing might not have been…” She paused and the little creases in her forehead betrayed how hard she was thinking and fighting herself on this. “Well…that his firing might not have been motivated by purely professional reasons.” She sighed and looked as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Do tell Doctor French.” He replied sharply as the pen fell still in his hands and he stared hard at her, trying to figure out her intentions. Belle blanched, apparently taken aback by the question.

“W-what sir?” She stammered.

“These rumors. Pray tell, what rumors are my hospital staff  circulating as explanation for my actions? I want to know.” He growled, spreading both his palms flat on the desk behind him as he leaned forward suddenly and leered at her with dark and dangerous eyes.

Belle gulped, suddenly wondering if what she’d mistaken as bravery had actually been sheer stupidity. But she’d gotten herself into this mess and she’d have to get herself out of it with the self same gallantry that had gotten her here in the first place.

“It…it was insinuated that you might have fired him for flirting with me.” She breathed, feeling her body come to a shuddering halt as her heart stopped, her breath hitched and her whole body waited on high alert for his response to her next question. “You didn’t fire him for flirting with me though…did you?”

This was not at all what he had expected. She wasn’t trying to plead for the nurse’s job back. She was asking him if he had feelings for her, albeit in a roundabout way. The pen was long forgotten and he now gripped the edge of his desk to keep from throwing himself at her here and now. His knuckles were white with the strength of his grasp as he struggled to find words. He’d explain everything to her, he’d confess his true motivations, he’d confess to his feelings, he’d tell her how his blood had boiled at the sight of the nurse mistreating her, he’d tell her his real reasons for throwing her out of the operating room,  _he would tell her_   _everything_.

His mouth had just opened to form the words of his confession when he heard Doctor Regina Mills’ voice ringing in his ears.  _The hospital does have a rather strict ‘no fraternization’ policy where interns and hospital staff are concerned._

And just like that, his mouth went dry with the reminder that, no matter how much he wanted to tell her the truth, no matter how desperately he longed to hold her and kiss her, he couldn’t. He’d never be able to stop at just one touch, or just one kiss. She was a drug and he was an addict; one taste was all it would take to make him fall off the wagon and there’d be no getting back on. Regina would find out and his career – as well as Belle’s – would be over.

And while he could  _almost_ (but not quite) accept the end of his own career, the idea of ending Belle’s before it had even started was just too cruel. The girl was destined for greatness; she had the kind of hands and natural skill that won prestigious awards and earned a surgeon grants and whole hospitals or wings named after you. He would not be the one to ruin all that.

Feeling more than a little defeated, he circled back around his desk and collapsed into his chair, swiveling it so he was facing her. 

“Doctor French, do you  _honestly_  think me  _so_  unprofessional that I would fire a man because he was flirting, albeit poorly, with the pretty little intern?” He growled the question at her, having chosen his words carefully. Technically, he wasn’t denying it, but he hoped his harsh tone would convey the falsehood he needed her to believe.

“I- Doctor Gold I didn’t mean to offend, I was only trying-” She fumbled for words and he could see the flush of red that suffused her cheeks. His fingers dug against the edge of his desk more tightly now as he tried to resist the urge to give her a  _real_  reason to blush.

“I know what you were  _trying_  to ask, Doctor French. Nurse Gaston was behaving crudely, introducing sexual harassment into a work environment. I took the necessary measures to rid our staff of that kind of toxic behavior.” He snarled the words, channeling his anger at Regina Mills and her fucking ambition, his anger at the hospital and its damned rules, and instead directing it at her. It was wrong and he hated himself for it, just as he’d hated himself for taking his anger out on her in the operating room, but it was necessary.

“My staff’s personal lives are of no interest to me, Doctor French, so long as when you stand within the four walls of this hospital, you abide by its rules. Who you flirt with in your free time  _should be none of my concern_.” He growled emphatically, almost willing her to pick up on the hidden truth.  _Should be_. But it  _did_  concern him, it concerned him  _terribly_. His eyes darted to hers and heavens help him, did he detect a flicker of sorrow in her eyes? No, he couldn’t think like that now; he’d played the bastard boss card, now he had to finish playing it.“But when you’re in  _my_ hospital, you  _will_  behave professionally or I  _will_  take appropriate action. Are we clear?”

Belle gave a small nod of her head, her lower lip clenched tightly between her teeth and her gaze pained.

“Yes Chief Gold.” She managed, her voice a soft rasp with a foreign quiver to it and he could have killed himself for the pain he was inflicting on her, so evident in her tone.

“Then you may go, Doctor French. And do not bother me again with such accusations of unprofessional behavior. It is beneath us both.” He tried to make his voice a touch gentler at the end, though he doubted this would be of any comfort to her now. He’d been a bastard and she would have every right to hate him for it.

Belle French gave him a swift nod and then disappeared from his office in a flash of blue scrubs and white lab coat.

—————

“Spill. Now. You have exactly one minute.” Ruby murmured as she dragged Belle into an empty on call room and locked the door.

Belle’s face was pale, her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears as she bit her lip, too embarrassed and confused to know where to begin.

“Well, I went into his office and I didn’t even knock I just…I stormed in there like a _lunatic_. And I asked about why he’d fired Gaston because I said there were rumors that his motives were unprofessional. And he had me spell it out and ask if it was because he’d flirted with me.” Belle babbled, Ruby hanging on her every word.

“What did he say?” Ruby pressed for more information and Belle shot her a frustrated glance.

“What did he say?  _What do you think he said?_  He was offended by the implication, he denied it and the whole time he was twirling his damn pen like he couldn’t wait to be rid of me. In the end he basically told me that he doesn’t give a damn about me.” Belle sighed and Ruby crossed her arms.

“Belle. What did he say. I want his  _exact words_. Or as close to them as you can remember.” Ruby insisted, and Belle sighed and rubbed her temples, trying to remember the back and forth despite the haze of embarrassment that had defined the exchange.

 “I don’t know.” Belle groaned, thinking back. “I asked him if he fired Gaston because he flirted with me.” She recalled.

“And his response?”

“He asked if I really thought he would really be that unprofessional.” Belle breathed, shaking her head in utter mortification, but Ruby’s face was one of triumph.

“Ha! What else did he say?” Ruby inquired brightly, prompting Belle to look at her friend as if she’d sprouted a second head.

“He…he said something about it should be none of his business who I choose to flirt with, but at the hospital I have to be professional and play by his rules…and that if I don’t, he’ll take ‘appropriate action’.” Belle heaved feeling utterly dejected but Ruby’s grin only grew wider.

“Belle, not  _once_  did he deny having feelings for you.” Ruby chortled with a flourish as she embraced her friend in a quick hug. Belle, however, looked at her friend quizzically.

“What are you talking about? He  _verbally flayed me_. I’m done for. He  _hates me_.”  Belle groaned, feeling anger and self doubt mingling with her sorrow at her perceived rejection.

“Belle, did he explicitly deny firing Gaston for flirting with you?” Ruby questioned knowingly, her red lipstick smile widening. Belle’s mouth opened to protest, but as she replayed the conversation in her head, she came up empty handed.

“Well…no, I suppose not.”

“And he said it  _should_  be no concern who you flirt with, correct?  _Should be_. Belle, I’m telling you, he likes you. It explains everything.” Ruby announced victoriously. Belle, however, did not share her friend’s triumph. She’d just given up the childish notion that he thought she had promise and after their interaction, it seemed impossible that he could like her, let alone tolerate her.

“Ruby, I don’t think that’s it, I mean-” Belle began, only to be interrupted by her friend.

“Belle, think about it! He fires a nurse that is known for sexually harassing  _everyone_  only after the guy harasses you. He took your resident off your service and assigned you to a _female_  attending. Not only are you now learning more, and from a world renowned surgeon, but you’re also no longer around one of the most attractive men in the hospital. He let you participate in an advanced surgery, something  _no intern_  gets to do. _Ever_.” Ruby shook her head, still smiling and exhaled. “I’m telling you. Gold’s got a bad case of  _Belle Fever_.”

At this, Belle snorted, the idea so ridiculous it was laughable. And yet, everything Ruby said was true, although of course she’d added her own spin to it. And the idea that he _liked her_  was certainly preferable to the idea that he hated her.

But then she remembered something else he’d said.

_Do you honestly think me so unprofessional that I would fire a man because he was flirting, albeit poorly, with the pretty little intern?_

He’d called her pretty. She hadn’t realized it until just now, as she’d replayed the conversation in her head.

“You’re mad.” Belle remarked, but her words were marked with laughter and for the life of her, Belle couldn’t stop the smile that swept across her face, or the heat that rose in her cheeks. It was only the shrill whine of her beeper that roused Belle from her happy haze. As Belle looked to her beeper, she frowned and compared hers with Ruby. “Report to skills lab? I don’t remember that being in the schedule.” She mused.

“It wasn’t on mine. Oh well.” Ruby shrugged, never one prone to worrying. “Let’s check it out.” Belle nodded; it wouldn’t be good to keep Regina waiting.

“Yeah; I’d rather not be late and have Regina murder me for it.” She winced and Ruby’s head bobbed in agreement.

“What a tragedy that would be – Doctor Gold would never get to make his move.” Ruby beamed, prompting Belle to smack her arm smartly and the warmth to rise in her cheeks once more.

“Oh hush, you.”

—————

“From now on, you will report to this lab promptly at one o’clock in the afternoon, my schedule permitting.” Doctor Gold’s voice was crisp and sharp, a whip slicing through the solid stone wall of silence that met him as he faced the petrified group of interns.

The skills lab was not a place they’d spent a great deal of time in thus far, only once a month and with halfhearted surgeons who were nearing the end of their residency instructing them. Never had they been summoned, midday on a shift where a lab wasn’t scheduled, to be taught by the Chief of Surgery himself.

Belle was feeling a little queasy at the notion of spending the afternoon in the same room as the man who had just taken her down several pegs, even if, by Ruby’s estimation, he actually liked her. And again, she couldn’t help but wonder at the timing of it.

Doctor Gold walked by her at that moment, halting alongside her station and sweeping his gaze over the room before he allowed it to halt on her. “You will attend each skills lab, regardless of any personal conflicts you might encounter.” His tone was level but final; there would be  _no room_  for discussion.

She was stuck with Doctor Gold in the skills lab as often as he decided to require it. Belle couldn’t quite decide if that was a good thing or a bad one. It would be decidedly difficult to focus with him in such close proximity when all she could do was wonder if he really thought of her the way Ruby seemed to think he did.

—————

She’d come into his office, insinuating that he’d fired the damn nurse for flirting with her.

What the hell  _was it_ about the women in this hospital and their ability to guess his motivations and actions when he barely knew them himself? First Regina, calling him on his feelings for the intern, now said intern, calling him on his rash behavior in defense of her honor.

_Fuck_. He was getting easy to read in his old age, it seemed. Then again, that would explain the theory that women held, that men only got better with age, like a fine wine. They must not get better, he mused, only easier to disarm. And he had two of them, one a little lamb and the other a circling wolf, both of them all too eager to put him beneath the microscope.

He’d have to be careful. Especially now that he’d decided to ensure that Belle got the teaching she’d need in order to pass her first year intern exam. It was a dangerous move, to be certain; but if there was the  _slightest_  possibility that she could be interested in him, that she could return his affections? Well, he had to feed that flickering, sputtering flame before it died.

Assuming she  _did_  return his favor, he couldn’t act on it and nor could she, until she was no longer an intern. Thus, he would make it his personal mission to educate her and the rest of her intern year (and the rest of her class, out of necessity; he couldn’t make things _too_  obvious or Regina would have his head on a platter).

Thus, the mandatory skills lab.

“Each week, I will present the group with one question, the correct answerer of which will be permitted to join me in one of my surgeries.” Granted, he was in surgery infrequently compared to most of the surgeons, what with board meetings and budgets to balance, but whenever he was? Well, his surgeries were always the high profile, advanced sort that interns killed to get in on.

A ripple of approval and excitement went through the room, to which Doctor Gold only smirked knowingly. They could murmur all they wanted; he knew damn well who would be joining him for the vast majority of his procedures, and he was looking at her now.

“Yes.” He responded with a smirk, not bothering to be humble about what an opportunity it would be for a lowly intern to scrub in with the likes of him. He was proud of his reputation and he didn’t mind it in the least. “Therefore, I’d suggest you all begin studying, because your usual, sorry attempts at answering my questions on rounds will not earn you favor here. If I’m going to work to teach you, I damn well expect you to work to learn.”

Belle met his gaze, albeit tentatively, her blue eyes dancing with the same excitement her peers shared. Even if she detested him (which he hoped to high heaven she didn’t), Gold knew the idea of learning at a higher level was a lure she would not be able to ignore.

“Today we will be discussing sutures. Who can tell me what type of sutures to use to repair a deep tissue laceration that requires layered closure?”

Belle’s hand, regrettably, was not the first in the air. Instead, he had to suffer through two sickeningly inaccurate attempts at answering his question before Belle squared her shoulders and, her jaw set tightly, lifted her hand into the air.

He could have kissed her, brave little thing that she was, so much braver than a coward like him, that hid behind falsehoods to protect them both.

“Doctor French.” He addressed her crisply and she lowered her hand, her gaze not only meeting his, but holding it.  _Brave, brave girl_.

“The sutures presumably would not be removed, so you’d need them to be dissolvable. I’d suggest polyglyconate but silk or chromic would be other options.” She paused for breath and he watched the rise and fall of her chest  _far_  too intently before he recaptured her gaze. “The sutures themselves should be braided to allow the body’s cells to enter the suture and lead to greater inflammation, thus causing them to dissolve. Depending on material, it would take between three weeks to three months for complete absorption.” She finished, her hands folded neatly behind her back as she stared him down, a challenge in her eyes.

Yes. He’d chosen wisely. Not that Doctor Gold could ever claim to have had a choice in falling for Belle French. But the point of the matter was, his heart could not have chosen better if it had tried.

“I’ll be seeing you in surgery soon, Doctor French.” He responded briskly, moving on to the next subject without any sign of satisfaction, though he was grinning like a fool inwardly.

He’d ensure it was a long procedure. Something messy and upper level and painfully long, that way he’d have her to himself for a while. He’d just be sure to keep her on the opposite side of the table instead of next to him, that way he didn’t become overwhelmed as he had the last time.

His eyes on hers, he continued to walk around the room, and began to bark out his orders.

“Suture kits out; let’s discuss cutting and reverse cutting in cutaneous surgery…”


	5. Paging Doctor French

One month.

That was all the more time she’d spent on the cardio rotation – that was all the more time  _anyone_  spent on the cardio rotation during their intern year. And then it was done. She’d hardly seen Doctor Gold outside of the skills lab; he had yet to make good on his offer of surgeries and of the three skills labs they’d had since the first, she’d ‘won’ surgeries with him two times out of three. That meant he owed her a grand total of  _three_  surgeries now. Not that she was counting.

The thought alone made her heart race. For one thing, Belle had begun to consider Cardiothoracics as her future specialty. For another, winning surgeries in skills lab meant she’d get to keep coming back to spend time with  _him_  regardless of whose service or specialty she was on.

Seeing as she was currently on neurology’s service with Doctor Whale (who Belle found positively  _ghastly_ ) learning that she’d be scrubbing in with Doctor Gold came as especially welcome news. Belle had forced herself to maintain her composure when Doctor Whale had told her that she was off of neuro for the day and she was to report to Doctor Gold as soon as she’d finished her patient charts.

Belle’s handwriting was usually good, at least, by doctor standards. Today though, she flew through her charts at warp speed, her looping scrawl becoming tight and cramped as she jotted down everything that needed doing for her patients, her signature hasty.

Just as she was finishing her last chart, her beeper went off. She’d been expecting a summons from Doctor Gold; he wasn’t the sort to be patient, in her experience. But instead, she’d found that she was being summoned by Doctor Swan.

 _Odd_. She frowned at her beeper but didn’t question it. If the General Surgeon resident wanted her, she’d go. She just hoped Doctor Gold didn’t get impatient waiting on her and start without her. The idea was enough of a concern that it put speed in her step as she darted to the nurse’s station where Emma was waiting for her.

Belle liked Doctor Swan. She was a woman with backbone who didn’t hesitate to stand up to Doctor Gold or even Regina, both of whom outranked her. Emma Swan was finishing her residency and, if rumors were to be trusted, was already inking a contract with Doctor Gold to keep her at the hospital as a General Surgery Attending with the whispered promise of becoming the head of General Surgery after the current head retired in a year or two.

But the most notable attribute about Doctor Swan that Belle admired?  

She was perhaps the most dedicated girlfriend that Belle had ever seen.

Her boyfriend, whom Belle had met on a few occasions as his doctor, was a dark haired Irishman with the misfortune of having been born with a congenital heart defect known as aortic valve stenosis. It affected the aortic valve of the heart, narrowing it and causing issues with blood flow. Graham’s case had been mild, but in the last year his case had become more severe, to the point that he was now supposed to be undergoing surgery for an aortic valve replacement as soon as he recovered from his most recent surgery to correct a gastrointestinal complication he’d developed.

Judging by the look on Emma’s face as she turned to face Belle, something was terribly wrong with him. Before Belle could say a word to the older surgeon, her beeper went off again, this time a summons from Gold –  _911_.

“French!” Emma exclaimed, not bothering with titles in her distressed state. “You’re scrubbing in with Gold, aren’t you? It’s Graham. He had another syncope spell and he fainted on his way in here. Gold just did an exam and he thinks Graham’s got infective endocarditis but that can’t be right. He’s been taking his meds, prophylaxis.” Emma insisted, grasping the intern by the shoulders and shaking her gently, her hands trembling.

“Doctor Swan, I don’t know what’s going on. Let me go talk to Doctor Gold, alright?” Her beeper was going off again and if she didn’t answer, potential feelings or no Gold was going to  _murder her_. But Emma wouldn’t have it.

“You keep me in the loop, you hear me French? I want updates. Every hour, you hear me?” She rasped anxiously, shaking Belle again as the confused intern pried the woman’s hands off of her.

“I’ll make sure you’re informed.” Belle reassured, silencing her pager once again. “I have to go, okay? They’re taking him to surgery now. Just go to the waiting room.” Belle looked around helplessly; she needed assistance. Doctor Swan couldn’t be left alone right now. Belle was afraid the woman would burst into surgery herself if someone didn’t keep her outside.

Spying one of the young orderlies rounding the corner, Belle flagged him down, reading the name sewn onto the breast of his uniform in an attempt to sound more endearing.

“Sean? Listen, I need you to take her to the waiting room. Keep her there, you hear me Sean? Get a nurse or someone to stay with her if you have to but she’s  _not_  to step foot anywhere near an OR. Do you understand?”

The dirty blonde youth nodded, wide eyed but obedient as he took Emma’s hand and tried to guide her away. Emma, however, was not about to go quietly. She snatched Belle’s hand at the last second, tugging the intern back and holding her gaze fiercely.

“You keep him alive, you hear me? You tell Gold to do whatever it takes. But you  _keep Graham alive_.” She shouted as Sean helped cart her off and Belle darted away and tried to ignore the slight tremble in her hands as she rushed to the wash room, scrubbing in at record speed.

——-

He’d begun to get anxious when she hadn’t shown up to help with pre-op but he’d reassured himself that Belle was an intern, likely bogged down finishing her charts, just as she’d been instructed to do. At that point, he’d snapped at his scrub nurse, Nurse Blanchard, to summon Doctor French again.

But then they’d finished the pre-op and wheeled Doctor Swan’s little boyfriend into surgery and still, the girl had not shown up. Again, he’d had Nurse Blanchard page her. Even as the anesthesiologist had finished putting Graham under, Gold had waited, his dark brown eyes trained on the OR entrance. But no blue eyed, mahogany haired intern had appeared, with a nectarine lip-gloss painted smile and so he’d growled at Nurse Blanchard to page Doctor French  _yet again_.

When she finally rushed in, he’d already begun the procedure, as Graham’s deteriorating condition had left no room for delay.  And things were  _not_  going well.

“Glad you  _deigned_  to  _finally_  join us, Doctor French.” He growled out, more than anything relieved to see her, donned in gloves and mask and cap. He needed the pair of extra hands, truth be told. “Get in here; we’ve got more myocardial abscesses than we’ve got hands for.” He stated grimly, handing her a retractor and a scalpel.

He’d hoped to have her to himself for a few hours. He’d planned to teach her a thing or two about his specialty while drilling her with questions related to congenital heart defects. Not quite a romantic, candlelit dinner for two, but it was the best he could do, given their circumstances. And  _really_ , what surgeon wasn’t at least a  _little bit_  attracted to intelligent conversation around an open body cavity?

Now though, any concerns about not being able to focus in close proximity to her had vanished as Graham had become tachycardic and the abscesses had revealed just how far the infection had spread. It was  _everywhere_.

Like two cogs in a well oiled machine, he and Belle wordlessly worked on Graham. He was unaccustomed to being joined by such an adept partner in the OR – for an intern, Belle was not only surprisingly skilled, she was also shockingly adroit at predicting his needs. Before he could speak them aloud, she would already be preparing the next instrument, or giving him suction when a bleeder would begin to get bad. The idea was enough to give him a small seed of joy amidst the tide of anger and frustration and concern rising within him at the surgery itself. On the bright side, this was proof that they were compatible at least on a professional scale.

“His heart rate is spiking Doctor Gold.” Nurse Blanchard stated as she stared nervously at Graham’s monitors.

“ _Fuck_.” He hissed, angling his head lamp to get more light on the aortic valve.  _It was in disrepair_. He glanced to Belle’s hands which were flying as she tried to gain control over the abscesses. “He’s septic.” Gold muttered hollowly, prompting Belle’s blue eyes to fly to his in shock and panic.

“W-we could try a platelet transfusion and see if that stabilizes him enough to continue.” Belle suggested, but it was obvious she knew that she was grasping at straws.

“It won’t make a damn bit of difference at this point.” Gold retorted, but just the same he turned back to Nurse Blancahrd.

“You heard Doctor French; platelets. Call the blood bank. Tell them we need three units of O negative.” He commanded, his hands never ceasing their frenzied motions as he and Belle attempted to save the man. Onward they went with the valve replacement, Graham going tachycardic so regularly that it was a constant stop and go routine as they had to pause and get his heart rate down between trying to put in the replacement valve.

Just as Gold finished stitching it into place though, Graham’s monitors went haywire as his heart rate skyrocketed higher than it had gone thus far.

“He’s tachycardic again, Get me the defibrillators!” Belle shouted as Gold wrenched his hands and the accompanying tools out of the way. He watched as Belle shocked Graham’s heart, but the monitor tracking his heart rate showed no improvement.

“Charge to 200!” She commanded and shocked the heart again, to no avail. As Nurse Blanchard scrambled to recharge the defibrillator though, Graham’s heart rate plummeted just as sharply as it had risen and suddenly he was flatlining.

“Push a round of epi!” Gold snarled as Belle withdrew the paddles. He diligently set about massaging the heart, his eyes darting from the monitor to the heart to Belle and back again. At his side suddenly, Belle pushed round after round of drugs in a frantic attempt to bring Graham back. But the young intern was slowly realizing that which Gold had accepted once he’d seen how widespread the infection was.

Graham was not going to wake up again.

——-

Belle felt like liquid ice was running through her veins as she walked down the hall toward the waiting room. Each step seemed an odyssey, every second an eternity. This was a feeling that she very much doubted ever got better, no matter how long you were a surgeon for.

The only thing that the years might change, she thought, would be to make her more… _numb_  to it, but she knew she would always feel it. Or she hoped she would. Because if she stopped feeling this? If she  _stopped_  caring each time a patient died on her table? Well, if she ever hit that point, she’d be rather more beast than person.

Belle’s blue eyes landed on the back of Emma’s head as she rounded the corner to the waiting room and she felt her stomach lurch. Belle hadn’t spent all that much time with either Graham or Emma, but from her month under Doctor Swan’s supervision, she knew how close the young surgeon had been to her boyfriend. He’d been hospitalized once during Belle’s general surgery rotation and during that time, Emma had spent every night curled at his side,  visiting hours be damned.

Emma had held Graham’s hand both literally and metaphorically, through every obstacle his deteriorating health had thrown at them. She’d spent hours reviewing planned procedures with the attending and going over them with Graham. Doctor Swan might have been specializing in general surgery, but she’d become intimately acquainted with cardio because of Graham.

And now Belle had to deliver the news to Emma Swan that Graham’s heart had finally stopped beating.

“Emma?” She willed her voice not to shake as the young surgeon flew up from her plastic hospital chair, eyes wide and searching.

“French! How is he? What’s happening in there? I’ve been going out of my mind waiting on an update, it’s been an hour and a half since my last one…” She trailed, finally taking note of the strain on Belle’s face, the redness of her cheeks and eyes.

And like a curtain falling, Belle watched realization dawn on Emma.

“No.” She gasped, shaking her head as her body began to tremble. “No, no don’t say it!” She begged and Belle felt as though the knife that had been in her heart since Graham had flatlined was now twisting itself in deeper, causing more damage still.

“Emma, I’m so sorry. There was nothing we could do…”

——-

It had taken every ounce of her strength and her courage to explain what had happened in surgery to Emma, to walk her to where Graham’s body was now resting so she could say her final, tear-filled goodbyes. By the time Emma Swan left to break the news to Graham’s family, Belle felt like something inside of her had shattered too.

She had been headed for the locker room, intent on changing out of her scrubs and lab coat (she could still smell the odors of surgery clinging to her, the reek of blood and burning flesh as the bovie cauterized). Belle wanted nothing more than to be rid of these smells, these weighty reminders that she had been holding the scalpel when he had died.

She didn’t make it to the locker room.

Belle could hear the blood rushing in her ears, could feel the balance of the world seem to shift, as if gravity had been skewed. Leaning heavily on the wall for support, she glanced around, her vision swimming with tears and dizziness, and saw one of the supply closets. Swiping her ID card to get herself inside, she closed the door behind her and flipped on the light switch to illuminate the small, dark room and then she allowed herself to collapse against the windowless door.

She slid to the floor, her small body wracked with sobs as she brought her knees up to hide her face, feeling the tears falling hot and fast from her cheeks. A few hours ago, her patient had been alive. And now he was dead and she’d watched him slip away on her table.

Belle was still trying to stifle her own sobs when suddenly something rammed against the door and she half fell, half stood to get out of the way, blinking through her tears at the person who had attempted to open the door, only to be blocked by her.

 _Fuck_.

Doctor Gold was staring down at her, his face more expressive than she’d ever seen it before as first shock and then (was it possible?)  _compassion_  swept over his features. Quickly, he turned and shut the door behind him, leaning on it for a moment as he continued to look at her.

“I-Doctor Gold, I’m sorry. I-I just…” Belle fumbled for words, clamping a hand over her mouth to prevent another sob from slipping out.

And then suddenly he was beside her, kneeling clumsily next to her and wrapping his arms around her as he made the most soothing noise she’d ever heard, the sort of thing mothers used to lull newborns to sleep with. It should have been frightening. It should have been embarrassing to have arguably the most powerful man in the hospital watching her dissolve like a little child.

But all that Belle felt was  _relief_  and  _comfort_.

“There now dearie, let it out.” He murmured into her hair, the arm wrapped around her pulling her into him, her face nuzzling against his chest and his other hand cradling her head and stroking her softly.

And suddenly, the dam was breaking, the levies weren’t holding and everything, all the pain and guilt and anger she’d been holding back came flooding out of her. She was sobbing,  _weeping_ , because ‘crying’ was not a strong enough description for what she was doing. She was breaking and shattering in his arms and he was cradling her, rocking her, soothing her through it.

Her hands had, at some point along the way, balled into fists and without meaning to she had begun to pummel him with them. Not gently, but with all the force she could muster, she beat his chest with them, repeating the one word that kept swimming to the forefront of her mind.

“ _Why_?!” She wailed, willing herself to find some semblance of rhyme or reason for Graham’s death. “Why?!” She repeated again, softer now. She’d lost steam; her hands now hung limply at her sides, her eyes unable to produce another tear and her voice raw from screaming and crying.

It was just a whisper, but it was infused with all the agony she felt and it broke something in him to hear her hurting so.

“ _Why_?” She asked again and he hesitated a moment before he answered her.

“I’ve been asking that question for going on twenty five years, dearie.” He sighed into her ear. “And I’ve yet to find an answer to my liking.”

He brushed away a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear, offering her a sad, slow smile. It was different than the smiles he offered to his patients and their families; this smile was  _genuine_.

“How do you do it?” She asked, her voice just above a whisper. “How do you look them in the eyes and tell them that the person they loved is gone?”

He was quiet for some moments, his eyes half closed as he seemed to sift through his years of surgical experience for a satisfactory answer to her question.

“I think of the person they loved; the person who was brave enough to sign those consent forms and agree to have the surgery and  _fight_  to  _live_. And I think that if they could be brave enough to fight, then I can be brave enough to give their loved ones a difficult truth.”

Silence again descended on them, and though she’d been quiet for some many moments now, neither of them had moved; she was still safely ensconced in his arms, her head over his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

“Does it… does it ever get easier? Losing patients? Telling their loved ones?” She asked, and somewhere deep down in that question, there was a hint of fear. Fear that it would always be this hard and at the same time, fear of what kind of monster she might become if it ever became any easier.

“No… not  _easier_.” He admitted, shifting her weight in his arms so that less of her was pressed against his bad knee. “You just learn  _how_  to feel it.” He assured her and somehow, those words were exactly what she had needed to hear. It wouldn’t get better, it wouldn’t get worse. There was some modicum of comfort in that knowledge.

Belle was keenly aware that she should feel rather foolish, being held in the lap of a man who had been practicing medicine for almost as long as she’d been alive, crying like a child. But she could not bring herself to care about decorum. All she knew was that he was the only thing in the world at the moment that was capable of making her feel something other than agony over Graham’s death.

All the same though, he was a busy man with a hospital to run and surgeries to oversee and she had monopolized him in a supply closet so he could tend to her like a child. It had not been professional and yet, if anyone should have cared about her lack of professionalism, it was the person currently stroking her hair and holding her in a most decidedly  _unprofessional_  way.

It was eventually Belle that broke the spell when she finally lifted her head off of his chest and pushed herself up out of his lap and into a sitting position. She hastily brushed away at the tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes and then gave a hesitant sniff.

“I’m very sorry I lost my composure, Doctor Gold.” She apologized, her blue eyes downcast. She had been about to assure him that such uncivilized behavior would not happen again when he interrupted her, laying one gnarled hand upon her knee.

“Don’t apologize for being compassionate, dearie.” He grumbled. “There’s far too few surgeons and doctors in this world who give a damn. Your compassion is not a weakness; it’s a  _strength_. Never lose it.” And at that point he reached a hand forward and hooked her chin on his fingertips, forcing her to look up at him and meet his gaze.

“Your compassion for your patients is what makes you a good doctor. And that’s something that can’t be taught.” He paused, sucking in a breath almost as if in hesitation before he proceeded. “Take it from this old man; you don’t want to stop feeling the losses. You have to feel these things so you can remember the value of  _life_.” He sighed, again running his fingers through her hair and smiling as he did so, as if the action alone brought him immeasurable pleasure.

“If you stop caring about the deaths, then you stop caring about life. They’re two sides of the same coin; you can’t have one without the other.”

She nodded dully, the hollow ache in her gut not feeling any better for his words though. Belle didn’t  _want_  to feel. Not  _this_ , anyway. She wanted to care but she didn’t want to hurt like this every time she lost a patient.

“I just…I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I can’t go through this every time I lose a patient. It hurts too much.” She confessed, smoothing her scrubs and lab coat just to give her hands something to do.

He stared at her for a while, no doubt judging her for wanting to back out after just one loss, she imagined. She judged herself; she’d  _thought_  she’d be able to handle this. In med school, it had seemed doable. But now? Now it seemed an impossible price to pay for the privilege of saving lives.

“You were made for this, dearie. You’re brighter than any intern I’ve seen come through these halls. If anyone ought to be here, it’s you.” He stated quietly, and Belle felt her eyebrows arch up in shock.

“I am?”

“I’ve already complimented you, don’t go asking me to do it again.” He retorted with a wry smile. “But…yes. You are. You  _can_  do this; you’ll do  _brilliantly_  if you find some confidence in yourself. Embrace your compassionate side; it’s your compassion that will keep you from turning into just another angry doctor with nothing to live for but the scalpel.” He sighed and then added. “Like me.”

Belle’s eyes widened and flicked up to meet his gaze, that familiar shiver coursing down her spine as she did so.

“You have more to live for than cutting people open.” Belle whispered sincerely. And this time she initiated the contact between them as her hand fell on top of his and she gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance. She’d never,  _ever_  seen Doctor Gold look vulnerable. But if he was capable of vulnerability, than he certainly was being just that right now.

It didn’t last long.

Just as quickly as his walls had fallen down, he threw them back up again. He contorted his lips into a derisive grin, his eyes went cold and the kindness left his face.

“Oh, I do, do I? Pray tell  _Doctor French_ , what exactly does a heartless codger like me have in this world except surgery, hmm? No family to speak of and certainly no friends. I can’t even endear myself to a damned goldfish or sea monkeys. Without surgery, I’m naught but dust.”

Belle was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching his, reading the pain that was buried beneath the false bravado and the sarcasm. Beneath all that, he was vulnerable and hurting and these sharp words and brisk tone? These were his weapons of self defense. Beneath all the displaying and posturing, beneath the lab coat and scrubs and the surgical gowns and gloves, he was a man. Just an ordinary man.

Belle leaned in, her body acting of its own accord while her brain scrambled twelve paces back, trying to keep up but failing miserably. This was not logical, this was not even remotely smart (quite the opposite, really). But it was pure and it was genuine; this was her heart overruling her head for perhaps the first time in years.

This was Belle taking what she wanted and making no apologies for it.

Her lips hovered a few mere centimeters from his, her stare serious and trained on his wide and unprepared eyes. And even from here she could already smell the bitter tang of coffee on his breath as he let out a ragged exhale.

Belle’s hand reached up and cradled his face, her fingers brushing tentatively over his stubble as her other hand tugged on the hem of his shirt’s neck and pulled him the remaining distance between them. Ever so softly, Belle brought her lips to brush against his lower lip in the barest of touches as the last of her sensibility fled her.


	6. Interruptions

He’d dreamed this. A thousand times over, Gold had envisioned this moment; Belle’s lips on his, her hands holding his face to hers. He’d pictured twining their fingers together and kissing her until her cheeks flushed as they were prone to do, until she could  _barely breathe_.

What he had  _not_  envisioned, for all his dreams of her by day and by night, was that their first kiss would be interrupted before it had even truly begun. Just as her lips (feather light and sweet) brushed his in a butterfly soft touch, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed just outside the closet, signaling the approach of a third party.

Though it pained him, he removed himself from the pleasant sensations of her lips on his, of her fingers in his hair and at his neck. He stilled the hand that had been about to cup her face to his and withdrew the one that had been about to wrap around her waist tightly.

Instead, he firmly pushed her away from him and as the sound of a card swiping into the room reached him, he leaped to his feet, leaving Belle sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Regina Mills walked in briskly, coming to a halt, her eyebrows raised as she caught sight of the intern on the floor and Doctor Gold beyond, a mask of anger on his face as he barked at Belle.

“Well girl? Are you just going to lie there on the floor tripping up every doctor that comes in here, or are you going to take your tears somewhere else to people who care? You’ll never make it as a surgeon if you cry over every patient you lose.” He snapped, and terribly confused and still hurt though she was, Belle had the good sense to cringe and cower and stammer an apology before she rushed out of the closet, avoiding his gaze.

Regina turned to appraise him smugly, but given that he’d just snapped at the little lamb that had dared to show him affection, he was in  _no mood_  for her games. With Belle safely out of earshot, he rounded on Regina, determined to wipe that damn grin off her face.

“I daresay, I expected you to put in a bit more effort into that one, Doctor Mills, what with a budget increase on the line for your department. But it would seem that I’ll come out on the winning end on this little deal of ours. That intern doesn’t stand a chance of passing if she’s sobbing over every patient she loses.” He growled. It was cruel, using Belle’s sorrow as a shield to deflect Regina’s suspicions, but they were barely three and a half months into her year as an intern and he could not weaken or lose his resolve just yet. He had eight and a half months more to go before he could kiss her for the entire world to see; he had to be strong.

But still…Belle had nearly kissed him. There was now a flicker of hope, however small, feeding the fire of his affections. He had to keep Regina at bay or she would snuff out the fire before it could truly start.

“She’s no longer on my service, I assumed my time as teacher was done.” Regina growled, all suspicions cast aside at the mention of their deal.

“I do believe the interns spend a great deal of time in the skills lab with residents teaching them. I don’t imagine there would be any objections to you taking over and instructing them once a week.” He smirked and leaned in close to her. “If you think yourself capable.”

Goading Regina Mills would be the best way to get her to agree; Regina never did know how to back down from a fight. She was too fucking  _obsessed_  with winning to know she was being played.

“Fine.” She snapped back at him. They locked gazes for some moments, embattled in a silent war until he grinned at Regina and pulled open the door to leave.

“Lovely talking with you, Doctor Mills.”

——-

She didn’t see him at all for the rest of the day and nor did she seek him out. Belle wasn’t entirely certain what had come over her in the supply closet, but whatever it was, it had passed now. And she wasn’t eager to see it returned, given what his response had been. A quick shove and a look of fear.  _She frightened him_? She was still trying to puzzle that one out.

Still, she’d nearly been caught pawing the Chief of Surgery and she supposed she should have been thankful that he’d had the presence of mind to stop her. But for some reason, Belle French felt more than a little disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to finish what she’d started. And the fact that she felt disappointed only confused her all the more. She wasn’t supposed to want to kiss the Chief of Surgery. Admire him for his position, his experience, his knowledge, his skill? Certainly. But to admire him for his smile, the roughness of his accent, the way her name rolled off his tongue, the dexterity of his hands?

No. Those were off limits.

“Pull yourself together.” She whispered to herself as she fled toward the locker rooms, intent on changing out of her hospital clothes and getting back to the apartment as quickly as possible. If she hurried, she’d be able to get home, shower and into bed before Ruby. While she loved her coworker and roommate, Belle couldn’t face her friend tonight. If she did, she’d be spilling her guts out and for now, Belle needed time to herself with her thoughts.

—————

Belle didn’t see Doctor Gold all the next week, as their usual skills lab with him was cancelled on account of a board meeting, or so they were informed. The next week it was Doctor Mills that met them when they filed into the room, stern faced and hostile as always.

“I’ll be taking over for Doctor Gold this week and for the foreseeable future while he deals with the hospital board.” Doctor Mills purred, folding her hands behind her back as she _stalked_  down the aisle of tables, taking in the rows of interns with a look at least half composed of disgust. “You can put away your books; there will be no Q & A for you all to win surgeries as prizes. If you want surgeries, those books won’t help you get them. You have to earn the right by  _doing_. Simply  _knowing_  is not enough.”

Belle shivered as Doctor Mills’ gaze fell on her and not for the first time Belle felt like some small creature being eyed by a predator unable to pounce, but more than willing to. Regina was as a viper in waiting, poised and ready to strike; Belle need only make a mistake and Doctor Mills would sink her fangs deep into the young intern.

“Scalpels out. Today you’ll be learning how to  _successfully_  perform the first half of an aortic valve transplant.”

Belle froze, every hair on her body standing on end. This was the exact procedure she’d scrubbed in on last with Doctor Gold. Graham’s surgery. She could feel Regina’s eyes on her as Ruby nudged her, having noticed her peer’s odd behavior.

“Belle, you alright?” She questioned in a whisper, her gaze darting curiously to her roommate.

“Fine.” Belle gasped quietly, biting back anything more as she numbly moved to withdraw her scalpel from the toolkit at her station. Taking a deep breath she steeled herself and looked up to find Regina’s eyes still on her. Belle met her gaze and held it, determined not to betray her fear or the host of other emotions bubbling up within her to Doctor Mills.

The head of cardio lingered on her for a moment more and then turned away at last to sweep her gaze over the rest of the room, allowing Belle the opportunity to huff a sigh of relief.

This was going to be a  _very_  long skills lab. And  _not_  because of the procedure they were learning.

—————

Regina Mills had been nearly giddy when she’d heard that Gold had lost a patient in surgery. It wasn’t so much that she rejoiced in the poor patient’s death but rather, she delighted in Gold’s failure. The man had grown far too big for his Chief of Surgery britches and losing a patient on the rare occasion he deigned to perform surgery? Well, that was just the sort of thing to knock his ego down a peg. The fact that the patient in question had been Doctor Emma Swan’s little boy toy only made things all the sweeter. If ever there was a surgeon she could hate more than Doctor Gold, it was Doctor Emma  _fucking_ Swan.

But the cherry on top of the whole, tragic tale?

He’d had that little brown haired, blue eyed intern in surgery with him when it had happened. The same intern that, rumor had it, had nearly killed the last patient Gold had chosen to operate on. The  _very same intern_  that Regina had caught him with in the supply closet.

It hadn’t taken much for her remote suspicions that Gold was screwing the intern to turn into a concrete belief. Three instances of Gold in close proximity to the same intern might not have raised eyebrows with others, but Regina was already on high alert. Gold didn’t give two cents about any intern, hell, he didn’t give two cents about most _residents_  or even some of his attendings. So for him to take the same intern into surgery on multiple occasions (even if she had supposedly won them in skills labs)? Well. It meant something larger was at play.

And Regina was bound and determined to find out if her presumptions were correct.

It was a bit of a fine line to walk though, really. Part of her desperately hoped Gold  _was_ fucking his favored intern; if she could catch him doing something unseemly with the girl, Regina could get him fired for breaching the hospital’s code of conduct, or at the very least demoted. And who better to fill the vacant Chief of Surgery spot than Doctor Regina Mills, renowned cardiovascular surgeon and among the hospital’s most decorated and senior staff members?

Chief Mills. It had a nice ring to it.

All she had to do was continue to put pressure on the girl – she was the key. The stunt she’d pulled in the skills lab was only the beginning. She’d continue to create tension, continually put the girl in strenuous situations out of her depth and eventually the girl would crack when prompted and tell Regina everything she wanted to know, or Gold would come swooping in to her rescue. Either way, Regina would gain the proof she needed to ascertain whether or not the French girl and Gold were bumping uglies.

However – if Regina pushed the girl too far, made her snap or drop out of the program and it turned out she and Gold  _weren’t_  making like rabbits behind the scenes? Well, then Regina would be shooting herself in the foot. Little Doctor French, whether she knew it or not, had the possibility of being Regina’s golden goose. If Regina trained her up properly, took her on as a protégé of sorts and taught her what she knew, then the girl would undoubtedly pass her intern exam with flying colors and Regina would win her little bargain with Gold and get a hefty budget increase for her department.

And well, Regina Mills could think of more than a few very shiny, very  _expensive_  robotic machines she would be only too happy to have purchased for her department.

What a pickle indeed. Doctor Mills could be certain of only one thing: Doctor Belle French would do well to get used to seeing Regina around. She’d be watching the girl like a hawk one way or the other. 

—————

Gold had never been much a fan of the Emergency Room, really. Patients rushing in, all of them thinking they were more important than the rest. And then there were the surgeons; surgeons that dealt with trauma had to be quick and dirty about fixing things. And that was most certainly  _not_  Gold’s style. He was precise and careful; every stitch, every cut, every  _move_  was practiced and exact.

Trauma wasn’t like that at all. Trauma was just a bunch of patch jobs meant to hold the leak until the real craftsmen could come in and fix the dam. Trauma surgeons were talented, to be sure, but in a much different, less refined way than other specialties (especially Cardio), in his opinion. And so, since he’d never made any great show of hiding his distaste for the ER, it was rare to find him in it. Gold only ever visited when he was forced to give the board members or benefactors tours. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be caught dead in the emergency room.

Thus, the fact that he was here, in the middle of the day, risking his own reputation and career was a testament to how thoroughly, woefully love-sick he was. And it was a sickness, of that he was certain. Belle was a damn  _disease_  and she’d infected him through and through. And now he was here in the damned ER of all places, trying to seek her out.

When the fuck had he grown so soft hearted?

Belle wasn’t difficult to find; she was still on Doctor Whale’s service , in the final week of her Neurology rotation, though she was bound for Trauma next, according to her rotation schedule. Which yes, he’d gone and checked and possibly made a duplicate of so he could keep track of her. He liked knowing where things of value to him were. Or people, in this instance.

She was sitting beside a white haired elderly gentleman who was sporting a deep gash on his forehead, which Belle was in the process of stitching up. Gold drew up suddenly and watched from across the room as the young intern smiled and made conversation with the old man who, in spite of his injury, was beaming and laughing along with her.

And just like that, Gold found himself  _jealous_  of the man with the busted open head, who could so openly enjoy the girl’s company. He dismissed the emotion as soon as it surfaced though; he wasn’t jealous, merely  _frustrated_  by the fact that something he desired was so close and yet, he could not be permitted to enjoy it. It was a cruel punishment and that was all he was feeling. Certainly not jealousy. Not at all.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we Doctor French?” He asked crisply as he approached. He watched as her laughter died on her lips, her pupils dilating as she bit her lip and sucked in a surprised breath.

“Chief Gold! I- well, no sir, Marco just made a joke, that’s all.” She explained hurriedly, her posture having gone stiff, all comfort having fled at his approach.

 _Marco_.

“Ah. On a first name basis already, I see? How quaint.” Gold smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Again, he felt that prickle of jealousy; he very much doubted Belle  _knew_  his first name, let alone called him by it.

“That was my doing, you see. I don’t trust strangers to stick a sharp object through my forehead, so I insisted to Doctor Belle that she call me by my first name and I would call her by hers.” The old man said simply with a wave of his hand. “I did not mean to cause trouble for her.”

“Certainly not.” Gold intoned in a falsely bright voice

The man in question turned to glance at Gold, his wound only half stitched and again he felt that bit of jealousy flare up as he considered what it must be like to have Belle’s gentle fingers touching his forehead. The old coot probably was enjoying it, too. Gold’s lips flattened into a line as he picked up Mr. Petto’s chart and scanned it critically.

“The girl is allowed to laugh, is she not? She is doing me the kindness of fixing the war wounds of my fall from a ladder, surely I can repay her with jests.” The old man smiled kindly at Belle and then turned his wizened gaze on Gold.

“You’ll excuse me, Mr. Petto; we surgeons are busy creatures by nature and have little time for humor. Doctor French has need for her focus, you see, as she needs to be stitching you up and then getting you upstairs for your MRI, according to your chart.” He said, leveling his stare at Belle. “She is an intern, you see, and she should be focused on learning and practicing medicine; not on becoming a comedienne, however enchanting your jokes may be.” Gold stated in a rushed voice – he needed to hurry this up. If Doctor Malanie Vincent, (the Trauma Attending), caught him down here, near Belle, Regina would find out about it. The two women were undoubtedly in cahoots.  _The bitches_.

He returned the old man’s chart and tapped Belle’s shoulder gently.

“A word, Doctor French?” It was phrased like a question, but from the look on his face, it was apparent that he was  _not_ asking.

“I’ll be right back Mr. Petto.” She smiled at the old man, patting his hand before she left, which Gold noted with a lurch of his stomach. The pair walked a short distance away and Gold turned, prepared to say his piece and leave, but Belle was too fast for him.

“Doctor Gold, with all due respect is there something you need from me?  Because if not, I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop lurking around me while I try to work and leave me be. I can’t  _focus_  with you leaning over my shoulder watching my every move and making snarky comments.” She said, her hands clenched into precious fists as she stared him down fiercely. She was a brave little thing, wasn’t she?

“The cafeteria, two hours from now. I’ll be in the southwest wing; meet me there so we can speak more in depth.” The look on her face changed abruptly from determination to astonishment, though she quickly regained herself.

“Is this a request or an order, Doctor Gold?” She inquired with a little gulp and bless her, she thought he would ask?

“I’ll let you decide that, Doctor French.” He murmured with a grin before walking away.

—————

Belle didn’t like second guessing herself, but she was certainly doing just that at this moment. She’d decided to go to the cafeteria to meet Doctor Gold, but really, what choice had she had? You didn’t tell the Chief of Surgery ‘no’ when he asked you to do something.

She’d finished stitching up poor Mr. Petto’s forehead and wheeled him up for his MRI which, thankfully, had been clear. After receiving a few words of encouragement from the older gentleman, she’d signed his discharge papers and after informing Doctor Whale that Chief Gold had requested her assistance, she’d departed. It wasn’t until she was in sight of him in the cafeteria that Belle realized she hadn’t texted Ruby to cancel their standing lunch date. Oops.

“Doctor French, so glad you decided to join me.” Doctor Gold’s voice seemed to ring in her ears as she fought her body’s urge to blush. She hadn’t been in close proximity with him, and properly alone since that day in the supply closet, really.

“I didn’t think I had much of a choice.” She stated truthfully and was it just her imagination, or had his eyes taken on a sadder look at her words? No, that was ridiculous, just wishful thinking.

“Do take a seat.” He muttered quietly, waving one hand to the empty place across from him while the other dug into the platter of cheese fries in front of him and fished out one of the cheese coated things. They sat in silence for several long moments as Doctor Gold kept eating his and Belle sat waiting expectantly. When at last she could take it no more, she spoke up, deciding to comment on his food choice.

“You know those things are terrible for you, right?” She queried with raised brows, motioning to the deep fried, greasy serving before him. He only grinned and without looking up he responded.

“I find that most things that I enjoy or want tend to be bad for me, dearie. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me though; I  _think_  I’m qualified enough to monitor my own cholesterol levels.” He smirked and Belle could only duck her head and nod silently. 

“Why did you come here, Doctor French?”

“Sir?”

“The United States; why did you come here? You studied at The University of Melbourne. So why come to the US?” He asked nonchalantly.

“I…well truth be told sir, I want to work at Johns Hopkins, I think. And moving here and accepting an internship where I could study beneath the likes of you and Doctor Mills seemed like a good start.” She breathed, unsure why the Chief of Surgery was asking her something of this nature now.

“Surely your family misses you?” He pressed and Belle squirmed a little uncomfortably.

“I-…I don’t really have a family to speak of. It’s just my father and I. My mother died when I was young and I don’t think my father could bear to leave the land where she’s buried so…here I am.” Belle sighed, not overly fond of the memories these questions were trudging up.

“Sir, do you need something from me? I really should get back-” Belle began, unsure how much longer she could stand discussing these sorts of intimate details of her life with him.

 “Ah yes; you have a suitor to be getting back to. Do tell ‘Mr. Petto’ I say hello.” Doctor Gold grimaced at her.

 _What?_ Belle blanched, unsure how to react to that.

“ _Excuse me?_  Doctor Gold, I don’t know what you think, but-” She didn’t get to finish though, as he was quickly speaking again.

“It’s quite alright dearie, who am I to judge? I just wasn’t aware that you appreciated the finer,  _older_  vintages so much, that’s all.” He smirked at her over his plate of fries and she could feel her jaw drop.

“You think… you think that I was  _attracted_ to Mr. Petto _?_  Doctor Gold…no. Just… _no_.” She refuted him vehemently, trying not to blush but losing that battle rather spectacularly, if the heat in her cheeks was any indication. How could he be so blind as to think she liked Mr. Petto after she had tried kissing Gold in the supply closet? Were men  _really_  that dense?

Before she could explain herself though, Belle became aware of the fact that the cafeteria had begun to fill and, at that moment, Ruby was walking by, her eyes wide and locked on Belle and Doctor Gold. As their eyes met, Ruby mouthed what very much looked like “What the hell?” to Belle and the girl deftly shook her head in a minute ‘not now’ response. She watched as Ruby seated herself alone at a table within watching distance (and possibly earshot) and Belle’s cheeks only grew all the redder.

“No need to blush, Doctor French; I’ll be sure to keep your predilections to myself.” Doctor Gold mused and Belle’s focus snapped back to him as she shook her head.

“Doctor Gold, I swear I don’t have any feelings for Mr. Petto or any of my patients, and nor do I have a preference for-” and here she blushed all the more fiercely, “-for ‘older vintages’  _like him_.” She emphasized the last two words, her blue eyes wide as she studied him.

Because though Belle might not prefer someone of Mr. Marco Petto’s age class, Doctor Gold still appealed to her. Even if he was a smug bastard that derived entirely too much enjoyment out of tormenting her.

“Now if your only purpose in calling me here was to mock me sir, I will take my leave now.” She intoned forcefully as she half stood, determined to keep her brave face on as she avoided his eyes, too afraid of her own reaction to his steadfast gaze.

“Sit down, Doctor French.” He stated simply, clearly not concerned by her threats to leave. Belle complied with a frown, not particularly pleased with how her lunch hour was being spent. It was at that moment that Doctor Gold reached down and removed a hefty file from within the briefcase at his feet and placed it on the table between them before shoving it towards her.

“There you are, dearie.” He smirked. Belle could only look from the file to him and back.

“Sir, what is this?”

He leaned in and  _good heavens_ , she could feel the heat of his breath on her face and her neck, he was  _so close_ as he spoke in a slow, almost seductive tone.

“ _That_ , Doctor French, is your homework; I would suggest studying before you and I go into surgery in a week and a half.” He paused, looked her over, his gaze lingering none too subtly a little south of her eyes and finally he added “Enjoy the fries; my treat.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Belle alone at the table to gawk at the massive file and still half full platter of cheese fries in front of her as she tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.


	7. A Solid Investment

Belle had still been blinking in shock when Ruby had descended on her and demanded a play by play of what had just transpired between Belle and the Chief of Surgery. Belle had offered up the details, well aware that she could not keep them from her friend, given what she’d seen. She did, however, keep to herself how her skin had shivered and her heart had raced when Doctor Gold’s breath had washed over her.

Some details didn’t need to be shared. Especially when just reliving the moment was bringing a  _very_  prominent blush to her cheeks, as she and Ruby walked back to the locker room after lunch.

 “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it; he has a thing for you too.” Ruby whispered to Belle as they walked down the hallway. This stopped Belle in her tracks.

“What?” She questioned bluntly, the slightest bit of panic rising up within her.

“You and Gold. You’re blushing just walking down the hallway. Don’t worry; I’m telling you, _it’s_   _mutual_.” Ruby beamed, but that just twisted the knot in Belle’s stomach. It had been one thing when she’d felt a one sided attraction to him. Despite Ruby’s mutterings, she hadn’t _truly_  believed Doctor Gold had feelings for her. Perhaps he could tolerate her more than the other interns, but actually like her, in a  _romantic_  way? She’d dismissed the notion. As Ruby’s words rang in her head, Belle remembered the not so subtle way he’d looked at her chest before he’d left and well… Ruby’s theory was holding a bit more water.

As Belle stood in overwhelmed silence, Ruby rolled her eyes and gave Belle’s arm a tug to get her walking again.

“Oh come on. I was watching. He kept his eyes on you the  _entire_  time. He was leaning forward like he was hanging on your every word and he definitely checked out your chest. Several times. Now, what was in that file?” She switched gears suddenly.

The file was… _extensive_. It included every treatment, every drug, every  _minute detail_  of patient history, down to the patient’s favorite flavor of Jell-o,  _everything_. It had taken only a look at the patient’s name, age, and health concerns for Belle to figure out why.

Belle glanced about them and then tugged on Ruby’s arm to get her to stop. Certain that they wouldn’t be overheard, she leaned in and whispered in her friend’s ear.

“It’s  _Henry’s_  file.”

 _Everyone_  in the hospital seemed to know of Henry, the boy that practically lived in surgery; he spent more time on the surgical floor than off. Somehow, his condition had gone undiagnosed when he was born at some second rate hospital in the southwest. It wasn’t until more recently, when the boy had begun to show symptoms of his condition, that he had come to the Storybrooke hospital and been diagnosed.

At the news that Belle was to be working on such a beloved patient, Ruby’s eyes grew wide and she looked to the folder Belle carried with new respect.

“ _Henry_? Wow.” She gave a low whistle and extended a hand toward the file, which Belle gave her eagerly.

Belle hadn’t ever worked with him before, but if Doctor Gold’s notes were correct, the boy was coming in for surgery soon. With Doctor Swan  _and_  Doctor Mills certain to be lurking about, Belle understood why he’d thought it prudent to give her the charts to memorize. If she was anything less than her best, Belle knew Emma and Regina would have her off the case faster than you could blink.

“Wow…” Ruby trailed off as she read over the paperwork. “This…looks intense. Are you  up for this?” She asked, genuinely concerned. Belle looked up from one of the papers (this one listing the planned approach for Henry’s surgery) and nodded.

“I will be. I  _have_  to be.  _Someone_ has to play referee between Doctor Swan and Doctor Mills. And besides, Henry’s a surgical floor favorite; if I pass up his case, I’ll be a pariah.” And given the way that Doctor Mills seemed to be trying to test her, Belle didn’t want to give the woman any cause to hate her.

But the  _real_ reason that Belle was holding on tight to this surgery? The reason she was too shy to admit to Ruby?  _Why the hell would she pass up the chance to see Doctor Gold in surgery again?_

—————

He hadn’t been certain if he could do it. If he could sit at a table with her, mere  _inches_ away, and not kiss her, or make plainly known his intentions.

Truthfully, he still wasn’t sure how successful he’d been; oh, he’d restrained himself from kissing her, but he’d also made no attempt to hide it when he’d looked her over. So really, it wasn’t a clear victory, but it also wasn’t a loss.

A draw, then?

As he walked back to his office, he shook his head and sighed. At his age, it ought not to be a ‘victory’ that he could muster enough self control to keep his paws off an intern. But Belle? Belle did things to him; she got him all out of sorts.

“Ashley!” he barked as he came into view of his flighty assistant’s desk. Instantly, a blonde head bobbed into view; he had her well trained.

“Y-yes Chief Gold?!” She stammered as she leaped to her feet.

“Put a note on my calendar to follow up on Henry’s case on Tuesday.” He said briskly as he walked into his office. Behind him, he could hear Ashley as she fumbled with pen and paper.

Yes, his encounter with Belle had been a ‘draw’. Still, it was enough of a success that he was already dreaming up excuses to call her up to his office before the week was out. He could use the file as a pretense to hide behind; he’d check in on her progress with it. See if she was really studying. Give her a ‘pop quiz’ on the patient. Yes, that would be a perfectly fine excuse to see her, one on one again. To quiz her.  _For the good of the patient_ , he told himself none too convincingly.

——-

Trauma thus far had been…well, far from traumatic.

Belle and Ruby were (for once) on the same rotation and as such, had both had the great joy of working the past few nights in the emergency room with absolutely  _no_  surgeries rushing through the doors.

The first night, Belle hadn’t minded so much, trauma being a new rotation and all. But as the nights had drug on without major incidents to speak of, Belle had grown tired of playing the part of physician for colds, cuts and complaints. And so far, Tuesday night was proving no livelier than the rest. Since it was evening and most doctors’ offices were closed, they’d had plenty of non-emergent cases coming through the ER doors. Belle had prescribed a new antihistamine to a poor gentleman who couldn’t stop sneezing. In the curtain next door, Ruby had stitched up some deep scratches on the arm of an older woman who’d been attacked by a stray dog.

Belle had overheard Ruby chatting with the old woman, laughing about their shared last name (Lucas) and other idle banter. Ruby was good at that - she could reassure a patient and strike up a conversation with such ease, no matter who the person was. Belle admired her friend for that; Ruby was a better doctor and surgeon for her ability to soothe anyone with kindness. By the time Ruby finished, the old woman had told her she ought to be a ‘regular doctor’ because she was better than the woman’s current physician.

“You seemed to hit it off with your patient there; that old woman thought you were quite the doctor.” Belle grinned as she and Ruby caught up on patient charts a while later. Ruby smiled a warm, genuine grin.

“Wasn’t she sweet? I liked her; she had some moxy.” Ruby chuckled before focusing on her friend. “What about you? Anything interesting or still a slow night?”

As the two lamented over the relatively uneventful shift, Doctor Malanie Vincent swooped down on them. Belle had found the woman wicked to work for and she always seemed to be lurking about at inopportune moments such as this.

“Tsk tsk ladies, never call it a slow night in the emergency room; you’ll jinx us all.” Doctor Vincent chastised and though her words themselves were none too fearsome, her tone was biting. Belle and Ruby both nodded and responded in unison.

“Yes Doctor Vincent.” Neither intern was in the mood to argue with the Trauma Attending.

“Now, Doctor French; I’ve had a memo from Doctor Gold. He says you have a patient file that belongs to him and he wants you in his office to explain why you’ve had it. Immediately.” Doctor Vincent mused, her brows quirked expectantly as she watched Belle’s reaction.

Shock was what the young intern felt first and her features betrayed it instantly. He wanted to know why she had it?  _He’d given it to her_! Damn that man.

“Doctor Vincent, may I be excused to return the file to Doctor Gold?” Belle queried and she could tell that her Attending was all too eager to say no, but Belle didn’t want to find out what Doctor Gold would be like if forced to wait. “I’m all caught up on my patient charts and I already finished with my patient in curtain three.”

“And I’m here, if a trauma comes in.” Ruby interjected, giving her friend a one sided, minute grin that was so fast, it was there and gone before Doctor Vincent could notice.

Doctor Vincent looked the two over and with a shake of her curly blonde haired head, she sighed and tossed her hands in the air.

“Fine. Go. But be back here pronto, French; tonight looks to get cold out and if there’s ice on the roads, you can expect we’ll be busy.” She stated knowingly as she pursed her lips and stared past the two young interns to the ER bay doors. “ _Very_  busy.” She sighed under her breath, motioning for Belle to go.

——-

Ashley smiled as Belle approached Gold’s office; though the young intern didn’t have cause to be up at the Chief’s office very often, she’d still stayed friendly with the young secretary. Ashley wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box, but she was sweet and she meant well.

“What kind of mood is he in?” Belle questioned as Ashley walked her to Gold’s office door. The blonde shrugged.

“Foul as always. But by his standard, I’d say he’s downright  _jaunty_  today.” She smiled and knocked on the door. When the answering ‘come in’ sounded on the other side, Ashley swung the door open and announced Belle like she was a princess at a ball.

“Doctor Belle French here to see you, sir.” Ashley stated before she shrank away and closed the door behind Belle. The brunette allowed her gaze to linger on the closed door for a moment as she steeled herself for Doctor Gold.

He was seated behind his desk, the fingertips of one hand touching the fingertips of the other as he sat awaiting her.

“I see you’ve brought my file back, Doctor French.” He grinned at her and motioned for her to have a seat.

“You made it sound as if I’d  _stolen_  it.” Belle snapped defensively. On this, she would stand her ground. She’d come to the conclusion that regardless of whether or not he had feelings for her, she would  _not_  be walked all over just because he was in a position of power.

He had the decency to look ashamed. Or at least, what she  _assumed_  was ashamed. He ducked his head and nodded with a sigh before he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah yes. About that.” He folded his hands together and seemed to brood for a moment before he finally gave her an answer. “You’re in your trauma rotation now, are you not?” When she nodded in the affirmative he continued. “Yes, well…Doctor Vincent, while a fine surgeon, is not particularly a fan of mine and has a certain… _proclivity_  for thwarting me at any available opportunity.” He explained, but with his words Belle did not gain understanding.

“And so you had to make it sound as if I was a thief because…?” She pressed, not about to let this go.

“Because if I had made it sound as if I were inviting you to my office for anything akin to pleasantries, Doctor Vincent would have seen fit to hold you in her ER and not let you see the light of day. And that would have been most counterproductive.” He admitted with a ragged sigh, as if explaining this all for her was  _so_  exhausting.

“And why would that have been counterproductive,  _Doctor Gold_? Do you intend to go fishing for more of my life history like you did last time?” She asked as she seated herself across from him, her posture as tense as her tone.

He was quiet for some time, staring at her with a look that Belle had not seen on him before and thus, did not know how to interpret. It was a look that seemed both sad and appraising all at once and the intensity of it almost frightened her.

 _But not quite_.

“Because, Doctor French; though you have proven yourself adequate in the skills labs I led, I am by no means certain that you are prepared for a surgery of this magnitude. I gave you the patient’s history as an investment of sorts. I called you here today so I could determine whether or not that investment was a wise one.”

Belle’s eyes widened and her grip on the arms of her chair tightened. He had called her here… _to test her_? She hadn’t been prepared for that. She gave a faint nod, not feeling properly readied.

“I understand.” She breathed.

“Then let’s get started. We’ll begin with something simple. Explain wee Henry’s condition to me.” Gold queried and reclined in his chair, the gaze he fixed her with both gentle and unforgiving all at once.

“Henry has Heterotaxy Syndrome; specifically, left atrial isomerism, which means that instead of his heart having two sides that differ in appearance and function, one side, is a mirror image of the other. This causes the heart to function improperly and also causes other abdominal complications.” Belle recited neatly, her eyes on Gold’s the entire time. She understood the pretense of this meeting, but she believed, quite strongly now, that it was just that – a pretense.

“And Henry’s abdominal complications would be what, precisely?” He asked lazily as he leaned a little forward in his chair as he stared intently at  _his_  intern.

“Henry has multiple septal defects, which are holes between the tissues dividing the sides of his heart. He also has polysplenia - he has several small spleens instead of one spleen organ. He had malrotation of his intestines when he was younger, which essentially meant the bowels were twisting on themselves and were lined up incorrectly.”

“What special considerations do we have to worry about with the little chap?” Doctor Gold asked and Belle answered with a smirk. This was half a test of her medical knowledge, half trick question.

“Because the spleen helps fight off infections and Henry’s is an atypical organ, he’s prone to infections, which has complicated several of his past surgeries. As such, we will have to be very wary of contamination while he is in the hospital. Additionally, Doctor Mills and Doctor Swan both have emotional entanglements with the patient and will need to be monitored over the course of his stay to ensure they remain professional and focused.” Belle finished strong and she could tell by the slight rise of her superior’s eyebrows that she’d done well to make note of the non-medical problems this patient would pose for them.

“Well done. I see you  _have_  been doing your homework after all.” He smirked and leaned forward so that he was closer to her; it was only when he did so that Belle realized she had, over the course of the conversation, moved to the edge of her own seat and that her own posture mimicked his.

“Now Doctor French, last question: What complications are we concerned of with his deteriorating condition?”

Belle’s mouth had long since gone dry and she blinked at him blankly, having been too focused on watching his mouth move to fully register what he’d asked of her. They sat in silence, both leaning in to one another, their gazes locked and Belle finally had to look down at the floor, the hot rush in her cheeks telling her (and him, she imagined) just how badly her focus had tripped up.

“C-can you repeat the question?” She asked and Belle could have sworn her own embarrassment would drown her then and there. He looked at her with a knowing smirk and shifted so he was giving her just a touch more space and the look on his face was so smug she could have hit him. It was like  _he knew_  what effect he was having on her.

“Complications, Doctor French; I want to know what we should be watching out for while the lad is in our care. I don’t want anything happening to him on our watch.” Belle felt some of her focus return, the gruff, protective tone of Gold’s voice reminding her that attraction or no, they were discussing a human life right now. A child’s life. And that was of greater importance than the flutter she got in her stomach when she was close to Doctor Gold.

Belle cleared her throat and took a few breaths before she faced him again but when she did, the look he’d fixed her with nearly had her in fits again. It was only her determination to answer and cement her place on Henry’s case that gave her the strength to answer instead of finishing the kiss she’d started in that supply closet weeks ago.

“We have to be on the lookout for electrical system failure in the heart, which would signal the onset of complete heart block. If that happens he – Henry – will need a pacemaker to correct the problem.” She stated as she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head on and not flinching away from it shyly as was her reflex. August had told her all those months ago that her bravery would buy her more points with Gold than her meekness. He’d been right.

At that moment, Gold stood and walked around his desk to take the other seat opposite of her, their knees almost brushing as he seated himself and stared at her in silence. Belle felt her breathing hitch but still she held his eyes. There was a seriousness there now, where before a roguish humor had glinted. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

——-

Oh, he was a devil. He’d always known it, but his behavior now, with the French girl, cemented that fact forevermore in his mind. He was toying with her and enjoying the results of his efforts entirely too much. He’d tested her, just as he’d planned to. And just as he’d known she would, his little intern had passed with flying colors. But he hadn’t been able to resist experimenting (inquiring minds and all that).

So he’d leaned in. About as close as his desk could allow. And to his utter delight, she’d mirrored his actions and had the innocence to look flustered about it. That much, at least, he knew wasn’t an act; she truly did strike him as innocent, which only made his advances all the more abhorrent but he’d long ago accepted that he was a grisly old monster. The fact that she wasn’t afraid of him, however, delighted him most thoroughly.

What had pleased him most though, was that when he’d leaned in, Belle had seemed to lose all sense of self. She’d had to ask him to repeat the question and he’d watched with entirely too much focus as she’d taken steadying breaths and licked her lovely lips. It was only when his fingers twitched with a strong desire to grab her up into his arms that he realized the need for distance and leaned away, only to watch as Belle’s focus returned with the distance.

Hmm. First an almost kiss and now his dear sweet little plaything was struggling to focus when left alone and in close proximity with him. Delightful.

Still, her reaction had raised a host of questions that Gold hadn’t been prepared to deal with. One thing seemed certain to him though; they could not continue as they were. If she truly had any feelings for him (and they would surely be much more diluted sentiments than his own, he was certain), then something need must be done.

Gold himself doubted his ability to continue with their current arrangement for months more. It was too difficult to see her walking his halls, eating lunch, scrubbing into surgeries other than his, interacting with patients without being able to go to her. He wanted her to be his, wanted to be able to take her into his arms right in front of Regina without fear of jeopardizing his own career or Belle’s.

He’d stood and crossed over to sit beside her with the objective of laying before her his intentions, to let her decide as she would. Gold was not one to break contracts and they had both signed them, but he was willing to take a sabbatical or some sort of extended leave (goodness knew he’d accrued enough personal days in his decades of working at this damned hospital) so they could test the waters and see where things might go. He wasn’t sure if that was a legitimate loophole or not, but he was willing to try. For her.

And just as he’d screwed up the courage to lay his soul bare before her, his pager went off. He huffed an exasperated sigh as he looked to the device and silenced it. Such was the life of a surgeon; prepare to tell the woman you secretly love that you harbor some measure of affection for her, and the hospital would summon you.

But he was the Chief of Surgery; he ran things on his own timetable. And right now he had Belle French in his office, alone to himself. And he intended to take advantage of that.

——-

“Might I suggest you rid yourself of your lab coat, Doctor French?” He intoned in a low growl after he silenced his pager and Belle could only blink at him, wide eyed and uncomprehending. Had he just asked….?

“Sir?”

“Your lab coat, Doctor French. I’d like you to  _take it off_.” He returned with a grin as he shrugged out of his own white coat and hung it on the back of his chair. His fingers were at his cufflinks, removing them and placing them inside a drawer on his desk before he continued to busy himself with the buttons of his crisp, white shirt, making quick work of them. His hands all but flew and she could see the smooth skin of his chest peeking out from behind the fabric of his shirt as he unbuttoned it lower and lower.

Numbly, Belle was aware of her own fingers going to the few buttons on her own lab coat and slowly, tremblingly, undoing the small little fastenings that held the coat in place. _Was this really happening_? He was disrobing himself and having her do the same. Was he really  _that_  presumptuous, that he thought she’d willingly undress just because he told her so? Was this something that the Chief just did with interns? Would there be no discussion of feelings or rules or how this could complicate their work lives?

Well, apparently he was  _rightly_  presumptuous, because as she realized, she was already shrugging out of her lab coat. Belle felt rather exposed without it, though that was ridiculous – she was still fully clothed in her scrub top and pants. _He_ , on the other hand, was now bare-chested, a fact Belle couldn’t help but notice as he came towards her.

His hands curled gently but firmly around each of her elbows, and she felt her own hands tremble, uncertain what to do with them. This… this was not at all how she had imagined it. But before she could respond to his touch, he was guiding her out of his way and had released and walked by her before she could process what had happened.

Apparently, she’d been blocking a small cabinet where he’d stashed his scrubs, which he now pulled on. The green top quickly hid his bare chest from her eyes, a loss she was keenly aware of. Belle stared at him, wide eyed and wondering just how badly she’d misinterpreted the situation (and wondering if he had noticed that she had done so) as he turned to look at her.

“I hope you know the file as well as you seem to, Doctor French, because Henry is in the ER. We’re going into surgery.  _Right now_ ”

 


	8. Ghosts in the Closet

“Doctor Gold, I don’t understand, Henry’s here  _now_? In the ER? Why?” Belle questioned as she trailed after him at a run, ducking and dodging doctors and nurses and patients in wheelchairs as they made for the stairs. Doctor Gold was in far too much of a rush to wait on the elevator.

“Yes, Doctor French he’s here now. Because generally when one is in a car accident, the injuries justify going to the emergency room.” He growled sharply and Belle quickly fell silent. She wasn’t trying to ask stupid questions, really, but between the whole stripping down and changing into scrubs bit earlier in his office and the suddenness of their summons, she was still a little dazed.

The pair of them burst into the ER in record time. Where only a short while earlier, Belle and Ruby had been complaining to each other about how boring and slow it was, now there was action  _everywhere_. There was no lack of as the whole room buzzed with nurses flitting to and fro and doctors coming and going in practiced chaos.

“What have we got Doctor Vincent?” Doctor Gold questioned loudly as he and the head of Trauma passed each other and the blonde doctor only afforded him one brief glance before refocusing her attention on the middle aged man she was working on.

“Three car accident. Automobile skidded on the ice across the median and head-on into oncoming traffic. Took out two cars, including your patient’s.” She explained and pointed hastily in the direction of one of the small trauma rooms.

Doctor Gold didn’t wait to hear the rest as he darted in the direction Doctor Vincent had pointed, leaving Belle at a loss until he whirled and  _whistled_  sharply at her.

“Doctor French!” He snapped and Belle hurried after him, trying not to let her gaze linger too long on the bloody mess that was Doctor Vincent’s patient. Were all three vehicles’ occupants in as bad of shape?

She prayed they weren’t.

“Fill me in!” Doctor Gold demanded loudly as he burst into the private trauma room. To Belle’s surprise, she found Ruby, her gloved hands bloodied, darting about, completely composed but undeniably a bit out of her depth. It was no small wonder why – as Ruby tried to tend to the small patient on the gurney, Doctor Swan and Doctor Mills were bickering.

“If you try to completely correct his renal arteries in addition to everything else, his heart won’t be able to take the strain!” Snapped Regina, one gloved hand waving emphatically at Doctor Swan.

“If I  _don’t_  fix his renal arteries, he might not have a functioning kidney, which would kill him before his heart issues do!” Emma retorted with equal force.

Both women were utterly distraught and Ruby was in no position to make them pay any mind and so, as they bickered, Ruby worked. 

“Enough!” Doctor Gold bellowed and pointed to the door. “Mills, Swan; both of you  _get out_.” Both women opened their mouths to protest but he shook his head and cut them off. “Now.” His voice was so cold, so  _lethal_  that it gave Belle goosebumps as the expression on both women’s faces fell and they swept out of the room ashamedly.

When they were safely out of the room, Gold turned to Ruby, who quailed only a little beneath his fearsome gaze before she seemed to shrug her fear aside and address the more pressing issue of the patient on her table.

“How is he?” Doctor Gold questioned and his tone was so gentle that Belle could hardly believe it was him who had spoken.

“He’s got blunt abdominal trauma; he was in the vehicle that the driver swerved into first. He has multiple contusions and from what Doctor Mills and Doctor Swan could deduce before they started fighting, he has a hepatic tear along the ligamentum teres and possible injuries to his renal arteries.”

“What about his spleen?” Belle piped up, remembering from Henry’s file how delicate the poor boy’s internal organs already were.

“Blunt splenic trauma was suspect.” Ruby responded confidently, though her tone was sad.

“And the blood?” Doctor Gold questioned, his voice sounding almost… _weak_.

“A head laceration which was bleeding pretty profusely when they brought him in, but I’ve already tended to it; we can stitch it up nice and neat later. He needs surgery now, but Doctor Swan and Doctor Mills were at odds over how to go about it, with his heart already so weak.” Ruby explained.

Belle turned to Doctor Gold but saw that he was staring blankly at Henry’s pale face and closed eyes, a look of confusion and worry and helplessness sweeping upon the older man’s haggard features. In that moment, Belle knew; it was up to her to get things rolling.

“Ruby, prep him for surgery; we have to risk it. If we don’t, he’ll die regardless. We just have to hope his heart’s up to the task. Tell Doctor Swan she’s going to have to be quick; if she can’t correct something completely, patch jobs will have to do.”Belle directed, sounding far more in control than she actually felt.

As Ruby began to gather the equipment to move Henry, Belle yelled for Doctor Mills and Doctor Swan, both of whom came back into the trauma room, both of them  _far_  too eager to help wheel the boy up to the surgical floor. Belle, meanwhile guided Doctor Gold by the elbow out of the room and up to the operating room. The fact that he said not a word to protest being led about like a puppy made her feel certain that he was not all with it at the moment.

It wasn’t until they were in the scrub room that she turned to face him, all kindness lost in favor of a cold, calculated mask. She had to be sure he was ready for surgery or there was no way in hell she was letting him operate on a child. Or anyone, for that matter.

“Can you do this?” She asked him sternly and the sound of her, so severe and harsh must have jolted him, because he turned to look at her with a start before he responded.

“What’s that now?” There was a touch of shock in his tone; she doubted he’d ever been bossed about by an intern before.

“You heard me; can you do this? If you can’t handle operating on him, I’m calling Doctor Mills back in here.” Belle stated authoritatively. And she meant it; they needed the best of the best if they were going to pull Henry through this, but if Doctor Gold’s head wasn’t in the game, Belle would only too happily summon the head of Cardio to do the job properly.

“I’m more than capable of handling a little emergency such as this, dearie. You underestimate me if you think a minor case of blunt abdominal trauma is going to undo me.” He dismissed, but with her words he seemed to have regained some measure of control, so Belle fell quiet and focused on scrubbing in. The methodical, repetitive process helped to lull her into the almost zen-like state she entered just before surgery.

And since she was about to go into surgery on a ten year old child, Belle suspected she’d need all the ‘zen’ she could get. 

——-

It took hours of frenzied but precise operating to stabilize Henry. The surgeons toiled, an emotionally wrecked Doctor Swan worked like a woman possessed to save Henry’s liver, though she had to eventually remove a small portion of it, too damaged to preserve. His spleen proved a more complicated fix and in the end he lost one of the few small portions that made up his spleen, but Doctor Swan was confident he’d be alright. More susceptible to infection than he already was, perhaps, but he could make do without it.

He could not, however, make do without his kidneys, which made the damage to his renal arteries rather concerning. The damage to his proved minimal, however to fix the damage they  _had_  sustained was time consuming.

And Henry’s heart couldn’t take too much more.

 And that fact was driven home for all of them when the monitors measuring his heart began to go haywire. They pushed drugs quickly and Belle was distantly pleased with herself for not having to hesitate and ask or second guess herself when she went to grab the medications.

She was starting to feel comfortable in the ER (especially with Doctor Gold, whose needs she could almost predict, generally handing him the instrument he needed before he could even vocalize a request). But all the confidence and comfort in the world was worth little when her own heart leaped into her throat as Henry’s heart rate spiked and they were forced to shock him with the paddles.

The sight of his little body being jolted with electricity to kickstart his heart? Well, it wasn’t exactly heartwarming.  

Still, by the end of the surgery, Henry was in stable but critical condition and even feeling confident as she was, Belle knew that this was something she would never be able to handle with the calm, cool, collected certainty patented to the upper echelon of surgeons.

How did you ever feel confident when you had to tell a patient’s family “the next twenty four hours will be critical”? That was just surgeon speak for “the next twenty four hours decides if your loved one lives or dies”. It was a cop out. And she hated it. But more than the cop out, she hated the truth of the matter – that such a small, twenty four hour window would determine the patient’s outcome. Whether or not a person lived or died, woke up or remained lost in the abyss. That was a lot to cope with. And as a  _very_  weary Doctor Swan escorted Henry back to the intensive care unit, Belle could feel the beginning of a breakdown at the idea of the poor little boy not making it through that window.

Because here was a beautiful, perfect little boy with angelic little features who might never wake up. A little boy who, only hours ago, was going to be receiving life saving surgery that would have made his quality of life improve drastically. And instead, because of a cruel twist of fate and an icy road, he was fighting for the privilege to keep on breathing for another day.

Tears had just begun to burn at the corners of her eyes when she noticed the hunched figure of Doctor Gold disappearing down the hall, his expression one of emotional agony.

—————

“Doctor Gold?”

He stopped in his tracks, fighting to don a mask of indifference in the face of so much pain. For once, Doctor Gold did  _not_  feel in control – of his emotions, of his patient’s outcome, of  _anything_. And he needed to be in control if he was going to face  _her_  right now.

“Yes, Doctor French?” His voice sounded haggard and strained even to him; no doubt the girl would pick up on it. She picked up on  _everything_ , it seemed. Everything except the most important thing he felt but couldn’t say, of course.

“Are-…are you alright sir?” She was closer, her voice soft but growing louder as she approached him. He blinked hard a few times and took a deep breath to steady himself but just as soon as he’d filled his lungs to do so, he exhaled sharply as her hand enclosed gently on his arm as she drew even with him.

Her eyes were wide and her expression concerned and in that moment, he had to fight the urge to kiss her. Not because she was beautiful (though she was) and not because he had feelings for her (which he did) but because for the life of him, he wanted, no  _needed_ to feel something other than the gut wrenching pain that he was drowning in. Because Henry might not wake up. The little boy that reminded him so much of his own could be dead within the next day or week and that was too much. It was too much pain, it was too unjust, it was more than he could bear.

“I’m fine, dearie.” He managed, but even a fool wouldn’t have believed him. Nothing about him was fine; not his voice, not his expression, not his posture.

“I’m not.” She confessed quietly and he turned on his heel and looked her over and saw the weariness written in her composure. Like as not, she was probably nearly as emotionally drained as he was.

“Come on then.” He muttered and without a word of explanation he stepped away from her soft touch and continued down the hall and toward his office, the soft patter of her shoes on the tile assuring him that she was following him.

——-

“Are you sure we should be doing this, sir?” The tone of hesitancy in her voice was adorable and served as a reminder that she was still so much more innocent and new than he was.

“I’m quite certain it’s alright, Doctor French. I’m the Chief of Surgery, aren’t I? If I say you’re off the clock, you’re off the clock.” He chortled as he pushed open the heavy exterior door that opened from the staircase up to the roof.

Belle followed behind him, timid for perhaps the first time since he’d met her and yet, still daring enough to accept an invitation to join him for a drink up on the hospital roof. Even at her lowest, the girl still had guts. He respected her for it, even if for the life of him, he couldn’t see how she managed it.

The roof offered a commanding view of the city below and beyond, the twinkling lights glowing like bright little fireflies in the dark of night. He turned to watch Belle’s expression as she stepped up alongside him at the edge of the roof, looking down on it all in awe.

“It’s beautiful.” She commented quietly and he could only nod.

“Aye; most things seem lovely from far away, I’ve found.” He sighed as he set the two glass tumblers down on the ledge before them with one hand. He quickly doled out hefty portions of scotch into each, at which point Belle paused from taking in the city lights to look at their drinks.

“Gold label?” She questioned and the smile that graced her lips was enough to draw a smirk forth from him. The irony was not lost on him.

“What were you expecting? Blue Label?” That, in fact, was safely tucked away in the cabinet at home. No point in keeping a $200 Scotch at work where the swine could get at it.

“I don’t know.” She blushed and dropped his gaze as she resumed staring out at the city. He set the bottle down and handed her a glass which she accepted with a quiet thank you. For several long moments, they stood leaning on the ledge in companionable silence. He was nursing his drink, distracted by the echoes of a past he’d done his best to tamp down when Belle had suddenly tossed hers back.

He’d stared at her in a mixture of awe and horror – he’d given her a  _very_  hearty portion and judging by the way she was coughing and spluttering, she wasn’t accustomed to drinking. Or at least, not scotch.

“Are you  _mad_?” He barked as she blinked and stifled more coughing. When she finally seemed alright (albeit, slightly more red faced than before from coughing) she looked at him with watery eyes.

“What is he to you?” She’d shed all signs of timidity now; this was the plucky girl he was more acquainted with.

“Who?” He asked, playing dumb because he could not have this discussion. Because if she asked him, he would tell her and it hurt too much, damn it. Even after all these years the pain was still too fresh.

“You know who. Henry. What is he to you? You don’t treat him like any other patient. He’s something more to you, isn’t he? You’re…you’re  _different_  with him.” She paused to look him over and he knew she could read the pain on his expression like he was an open book.

“He’s a patient, Doctor French. Nothing more, I assure you.” He knew he’d never get away with that though, already she was opening up her mouth to launch a protest. “He…he just reminds me of someone. That’s all.”

——-

She’d heard plenty of things about him through the rumor mill. She knew from gossip that he’d been married once, long ago. And supposedly, that wife had left him after a bitter, bitter divorce. A divorce that had seen her take custody of the son, if rumors were to be believed.

“…Your son.” It wasn’t a question. It made sense to her now; Henry was a sweet boy, young and with that mussed head of brown hair and those trusting eyes. Surely Doctor Gold had seen some measure of his son in that young face. It made sense.

Belle noticed at that moment that he was staring at her as if he’d been punched and she realized that her knowledge of him and his life probably was bordering on stalker if she did not explain herself.

“I…someone said you had a son. Was there a son? Is that who he reminds you of?” She had to tread slowly; Belle had no idea how emotional a subject this might be and given that she was currently partaking in alcoholic beverages on the roof with the Chief of Surgery, she was in no position to piss him off. Somehow, she was certain he could justify firing her if he wanted to. But strangely enough, the thought didn’t really frighten her. He wouldn’t do that.

“There was a son.” He confirmed, and he let the amber liquid in his glass twirl around for a few moments before he took a deep drink. “I lost him though. Many years ago. It was…sudden. I’d rather not let the same happen to Henry.” He sighed and took another sip from his drink as she studied him, puzzled and intrigued and sympathetic all at once.

“What happened to him?” Her voice was just above a whisper, as though speaking any louder might break the spell that seemed to have settled over them.

The grip on his glass tightened and for a moment she worried that she’d gone too far, pushed him too much. But slowly the tightness in his body disappeared, uncoiling and leaving him nearly limp as he told her the story.

“His mam and I…we married young.  _Too young_. She was only twenty one and I was twenty two. It was the summer before I started med school. I was busy with school most of the time but just before our first anniversary she told me she was pregnant. And I tried to be there for her and for my boy after he was born.” He paused, looking into his glass and beyond it, to what faces and ghosts of his past, she did not truly know.

Belle was silent, unsure what to do or say to comfort him. For a moment she wondered if he would go on, so long had the silence extended. But after he finished off his drink and refilled both his glass and hers, he resumed his tale.

“I was gone all the time. It was hard on her. She raised the lad almost on her own. He was only six when we finally divorced and she took full custody of him. With my schedule, I had to choose between my career and being a father. I chose my career.” His tone turned bitter and hard and she could tell that this was a decision that haunted him even now.

“I took a weekend off and I’d planned a whole trip for the two of us for his fourteenth birthday. We were supposed to go camping; he liked the woods, my boy.” He smiled wistfully and took another drink and she did the same, feeling a little lightheaded already from her first glass.

“We were driving out of town when I got a page. I don’t know why I had the damn thing on me – I wasn’t on call. Hospital rules said I shouldn’t have been summoned and my pager should have been at home. But I couldn’t resist. There was a massive trauma. I thought it’d only take an hour or two – I could help organize things and be on my way.”

He paused again, longer this time and she could feel something building. Belle knew that whatever he was about to say would not be good.

It was worse than she’d expected.

“The truck hit our car on the passenger side and sent us clear across three lanes of traffic and into a light pole. I don’t remember anything from after the impact until I woke up a day later at the hospital with a concussion and a broken femur. That’s why I limp.” He explained softly, his voice growing weak. “And they told me that my son was dead before the paramedics even arrived on the scene. Just…gone. And it was all my fault. If I’d have just kept driving and gone on that trip, if I’d just been a  _father_  for  _once_ …he’d still be alive.”

Belle wasn’t sure at what point in the story her hand had fallen across his and her fingers had twined in his. But her fingers  _were_  locked in his and she gave them a squeeze of reassurance, fighting back tears of her own and failing as they ran quietly down her cheeks.

He’d had a son. A son he’d loved and whose death he blamed himself for. Suddenly, his obsession with enforcing hospital rules seemed to make sense. If he had never been paged that day, he would not have turned that car around. He’d still be a father. Hell, he could have been a grandfather by now if he hadn’t gotten that page and turned the car around.

And no wonder he was gruff and dismissive of people; everyone he’d ever cared for had been lost to him. First his wife and then his son, who seemed to have been dearly beloved by him even if he had been a workaholic. It was enough to break anyone.

She wanted to offer him some comfort. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault but she knew those would be naught but hollow words. So Belle continued to hold his hand and offered him her companionship, the only thing she truly had to offer in that moment. Nothing she said or did could bring his son back. But if she could ease his guilt, his suffering in this moment? That she would do, if it was in her power.

“I’m sure he loved you very much. You should not blame yourself for wanting to turn around and come back. You’ve saved so many lives; wanting to save more? That’s not a fault.” She breathed quietly, hoping that he could find some measure of solace, whether in her or even the drink in his hands.

He hung his head and shook it miserably, his voice still pained when he found the nerve to say something more.

“He deserved better than me. I was never good enough to be his father.” He sighed and eyed his drink for a heartbeat before he tossed it back, though he did not cough and splutter as she had when she’d done the same.

She had nothing to say to him; she did not know enough to argue with him, to claim that his son had loved him dearly, though she suspected he had. Beneath the gruff exterior, Gold had proven he was a genuinely kind and  _good_  soul. It was just…buried. Beneath a not-so-kind façade.

Her free hand reached out, bound for his face. She wanted to look him in the eyes, to say something kind and force him to hear her. He needed to know that, in spite of what he thought, he was not to blame for his son’s death. He was not a monster. He was just a man; flawed as all the rest, but equally capable of being loved by others.

He needed to know that she felt for him. It only seemed right; he’d confided something deeply personal to her and the one secret that she was most desperate to hide, the secret that she clung to and which burned inside her was the secret of her feelings for him. And certainly, this was probably not the time or the place to confess those to him. But then again, there might never exist an appropriate time or place to tell him such things. He was her boss. But he boss or no, he was also the man that had insisted on taking her up here to the roof for drinks. And if she couldn’t tell him with liquid courage dulling her better judgment, when  _could_  she tell him?

“Doctor Gold, I’m s-”

She began, her tone level and strong even though internally she felt a complete wreck. But the scotch had lent her boldness and she was willing to take the risk.

She didn’t get the chance. Before she got out more than those few words, she felt his hand on her face, warm and leathered as he pulled her to him. His lips crashed against hers with urgency and desperation. Where their almost kiss had been tentative and slow, this was firm and fierce, as if he feared she would pull away or flee.

Belle did no such thing.

Her lips responded to his after her initial shock had worn off and she had just processed how wonderful he tasted (scotch and spice dancing upon his tongue) when he pulled away from her most suddenly. Belle felt dizzied from his kisses (or possibly the scotch, or some combination of the two) and she grabbed onto the ledge for balance as he looked her over hungrily from a few mere inches away.

Before she could say anything encouraging or appreciative, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, soft and fleeting, and then he was gone, his scrub sleeve slipping through her fingers as she reached out for him in vain.

And just like that, Belle found herself alone on the roof with naught but Doctor Gold’s abandoned Scotch and tumbler glasses for company.


	9. A Waiting Game

“I just don’t get it, that’s all.” Ruby commented as the two young women sat down at their usual lunch table. “This has been going on for  _months_  Belle. You two are basically in a relationship, just less the benefits.” The brunette mused, pointing a baby carrot accusatorily at her friend.

“We are not! Ruby, we just  _talk_. It’s innocent.” Belle defended as she bit into the apple she’d opted for in the lunch line. 

“Belle let’s look at the facts: several months ago, Doctor Gold asked you up to the roof for drinks, spilled his guts out to you and then kissed you like it was his dying wish. Since then, every week you two have your little ‘dates’ and you talk about everything under the sun. Call me crazy, but I’d call that dating.” Ruby smirked as she leaned back, confident in her victory.

Since the night that Doctor Gold had kissed her, Belle had finished her month long rotation on Trauma, followed by her rotations on Urology, Vascular Surgery and Ocular Surgery. Now midway through her Plastics rotation, Belle was growing tired of helping Doctor Glass stitch together rich peoples’ faces to make them look more attractive to their mirrors.

In some cases, Belle thought it would be cheaper if her patients just bought a magic mirror; for all the good plastic surgery would do them, they’d probably be better off just forgoing mirrors altogether, if they didn’t like what they saw in their reflections.

Still, one benefit to her recent rotations was that they had proven much slower paced than Cardio or General had, which had given her time to take tea and coffee weekly with Doctor Gold. Even during ‘busy’ weeks, she’d managed to make do but catching up on her charts while they talked. He’d even helped her once or twice. Mostly though, they just chatted. Sometimes he quizzed her over her patients and possible procedures and complications.

“It’s…it’s not like that…” Belle trailed off in a defeated sigh. It was difficult for her to argue with Ruby on this subject, really.

“Oh  _really_?” Ruby questioned sarcastically between bites of her lunch. “Let’s see; what was it you told me you two talked about last week, hmm?”

Belle ducked her head at the memory, a touch of embarrassment running through her at the mention. Last week, Belle had very nearly cast off her self-imposed shackles of self control due to the subject matter of her discussion with Doctor Gold.

“We talked about my father and how I left home because I was looking for an adventure…”

“ _And?_ ” Ruby pressed, apparently determined to make Belle remember everything Doctor Gold had said or done recently that had given Ruby cause to believe he liked her.

“And he told me I was very brave and applauded my actions.” Belle huffed, rattling off what Doctor Gold had said, eager to be done with Ruby’s drilling. It was a touch embarrassing and seemed somewhat self serving.

“Not that, you dolt. The other thing. About  _helping your dad_.” Ruby snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Oh. Yes. That.” Belle fidgeted a bit uncomfortably. “He…he offered to talk to some former associate of his that has a practice in Australia to see if he could help offer some business advice to my dad since his flower shop is struggling.”

She still remembered the moment he’d made the offer. Belle had been about to take a sip of her tea and when the words had left his mouth, she’d dropped the cup in sheer surprise. The tea had spilled all over the floor, much to her horror. The worst moment, however, had been when she’d gone to fetch the cup, only to discover a chip missing from the porcelain rim; she’d spilled tea all over his office and broken one of his cups after he’d offered to help her father.

Some way of showing her thanks.

She’d expected him to be angry or dismissive even, but all he’d done was look at her in puzzlement as she apologized and answered with ‘it’s just a cup’.

She hadn’t told Ruby that bit. It had been his reaction to her dropping the cup that had made her nearly kiss him; more so than his offer to help her father (though that kind of compassion had made her nearly swoon), his quick forgiveness had made her ache to kiss him. He was so harsh and unforgiving with everyone else, but with her he was…well, he was  _different_.

Ruby, Belle realized, was still staring at her intently and seemed to have taken her friend’s silence for surrender.

“I rest my case. A guy doesn’t go out of his way and do favors like that unless he’s interested. Belle, sweetie, you’re in a relationship. Neither of you just seems to realize it yet.” She commented gently and reached across the table to give her friend’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

“I…what do I do?” Belle asked uncertainly. She might know a great many things about matters of the heart in a surgical sense, but on this issue, Ruby was far her superior.

“You make him commit or you get out of whatever it is you two have been carrying on.” Ruby advised sagely as a stern look swept upon her face.

“But…well… _how_?” Belle asked, not able to even  _begin_  to imagine how she could force a person like Doctor Gold into anything.

At this Ruby smiled, one of her sharp teeth and blazing eyes type of smiles that Belle knew meant the young brunette had just the solution.

“You march into his office and remind him why he’s damned lucky to have your attention and you make him do something to keep you around.Or, you walk out of that office with your head held high and he can take his tea by himself.” Ruby stated with finality and Belle nodded, both of them falling silent as Ashley waved at them from across the cafeteria and began to walk towards them. Though Belle liked the girl well enough, she wasn’t about to discuss her growing feelings for Doctor Gold in front of the girl who worked as his secretary. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Ashley, it was just…well, if Doctor Gold was to find out how she felt about him, Belle would rather it come from her mouth, not Ashley’s.

Regardless though, she’d know how he felt about  _her_  soon enough. It was time to see just how much Doctor Gold was actually interested in her.

——-

“I’ve had another letter from Henry.” Doctor Gold commented as they both sipped quietly at their cups; tea in his, coffee in hers. It had been a long night on call and she’d needed the added caffeine that a few espresso shots could afford her.

“Oh? How is he?” Belle questioned brightly as he passed her a small container of sunflower seeds and motioned for her to have a few. She looked at the cup curiously but accepted them with an intrigued smile which he returned as he watched her nibble at them tentatively.

“The little lad’s doing just fine, already practically climbing the walls to be cleared to play sports. He wants to go out for the local baseball team.” He commented smilingly as he thumbed through the college ruled lined paper upon which Henry’s note had been hand written on. “This picture came too.” Gold intoned as he leaned across his desk to offer the 4x6 picture to the young intern.

She took it gently, mindful to keep her fingers off the actual image, lest they leave smudge marks and the way she beamed as she took in the sight of young Henry, whole and happy and  _alive and well_  made Gold beam too.

“It’s so hard to believe that a few months ago we thought he might not make it.” Belle breathed, recalling only too vividly the moment her blood had run cold as Henry’s monitors had indicated that he was flat lining.  The look on Doctor Gold’s face still haunted her; something told her it always would. It had just been such pure heartache and panic and fear and  _loss_.

“Indeed; I’m pleased to say Henry’s one of those rare outcomes that makes this job tolerable.” He smiled and it wasn’t a forced smile; they never seemed to be forced, not with Belle around anyway. Henry…Well, he had all but counted the boy as lost; it was that notion, that grief which had driven him to invite her up to the roof all those months ago. He’d been drunk on grief, lamenting the death of a boy that had still lived, however feebly.

And somehow, against all odds, his kiss and sudden departure had not scared her away but rather, seemed to have knitted them together into some odd coexistence. And equally miraculous, Henry had survived. Everything that he’d counted as lost had somehow been restored to him tenfold.

“Yes, yes he is.” Belle responded as she leaned forward to return the picture to him. He had already begun to lean in, hand extended. Their fingers met in the middle and at about the same moment, so did their eyes. For several long seconds, her fingers rested on his, curling almost imperceptibly in the gentlest gesture that almost seemed to indicate a willingness to hold his hand.

And then, just like that Regina’s voice was ringing in his ears and suddenly he had accepted the picture and broken away from her touch, his gaze dropped in shame and to keep his longing under control. He was fairly certain that prolonged exposure to anything as exquisitely blue as her eyes was bound to have long-term effects on his health.

He cleared his throat to try and clear some of the awkwardness and tension that had descended on them and latched onto the sunflower seeds as a conversational life preserver.

“Did you know, Doctor French, that sunflower seeds are enormously beneficial to one’s health?” He queried as he lifted one of the small seeds up for her to view as he removed the shell from the seed and promptly ate it before doing the same to a second, which he offered to her.

“I…No, I didn’t.” Belle commented and she seemed about as puzzled by the turn of the conversation as he was. (Really, sunflower seeds? He couldn’t have picked….well, just about  _anything_  else?)

“Oh yes; they’re tremendously valuable. They’re high in Vitamin E, so they’re excellent for cardiovascular health. Which, as you can imagine, I’m something of a stickler for.” He smiled and the way her grin crinkled her nose made his ridiculous choice of conversational material entirely worthwhile. “And they act as natural anti-inflammatory agents. Some research indicates they help prevent cancer, they help to keep our blood vessels and muscles relaxed and they help prevent skin damage.” He finished with a flourish as he presented her another seed which she took, this time more enthusiastically.

“I had no idea.” Belle beamed playfully and  _good grief_ , how was she making sunflower seeds entertaining? He hadn’t been aware that such a thing was possible. “Thank you.” She flashed him a genuine smile and he suddenly felt like he was just a lad giving roses to a girl in the hopes she’d take a fancy to him. For all her smiling and appreciative words, the damned seed might as well have been roses. It seemed that Belle was just the sort of thankful person who would value anything offered to her out of the kindness of someone’s heart.

It left him at a loss for words.

Fortunately, Belle seemed to be having a similar problem. She kept opening and closing her mouth to speak, only to think better of it and set about worrying at her lower lip while her fingers curled into and out of a fist every few seconds.

“Doctor Gold, there’s something I need to talk to you about…” She began and instantly he felt his stomach lurch and twist into nervous knots, fearing the worst. He’d known it would come some day, he’d just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. Her rejection of him was going to hurt, he knew it would; he’d grown far too attached to the blue eyed, brown haired little intern.

However, instead of continuing to speak, Belle instead fumbled with her words, occasionally managing to spit out the beginnings of what he believed to be a ‘how’ here or a ‘what’ there, but nothing of actual consequence or coherence.

Just when he’d begun to worry that she was having some sort of neurological episode and that he might have to page Doctor Whale (the sod), Belle seemed to come to her senses and fell silent, though she fixed him with an intense, unwavering stare.

——-

She didn’t know how to say it.

Belle loved words. As a child, she’d thumbed through her father’s beaten up old thesaurus just to find new words and roll them around on her tongue. But now, in this moment, words had failed her. She could not think of any that would be adequate enough to explain her feelings or her frustration at the way their relationship (because according to Ruby, this  _was_  a relationship) had stalled.

For all her attempts at starting a line of conversation or questioning to carry them into a mature discussion of their ‘relationship’ (or lack thereof) she met no success. And it was then that Ruby’s words had returned to her. ‘ _You march into his office and remind him why he’s damned lucky to have your attention’_.

And just like that, she had her answer.

Her head snapped up, eyes fixated on the man that she had begun to fall for, the man who had kissed her so passionately he’d stolen her breath away. The man who feared no one and made allowances for none and yet, somehow found it in himself to be kind and merciful and sweet to her, of all people.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Belle marched up to him, reached both hands to him, the left cupping his cheek and the right clinging to the back of his neck as she pulled him to her and simply  _kissed him_.

It was not a gentle kiss, but nor was it some fierce, primal thing. It was firm and demanding, the kind of kiss that said she knew what she was doing and she wasn’t ashamed or afraid of it in the slightest. She was kissing a man that patients referred to as an old dragon, that doctors shunned and feared, a man that viewed himself as a monster, for all intents and purposes.

And she was loving every moment of it.

——-

He wasn’t entirely certain how he wound up with the intern he’d been trying so hard  _not_ to kiss pressed up against him, her hands at his cheek and upon his neck, holding him close to her. Nor could he have explained how or when his hands had come to rest at her waist, content to hold her and keep her close, enjoying the warmth of her body against his.

When at last they broke away, he was feeling rather lightheaded and had begun to wonder if what had just happened was real. He’d been about to pinch himself to check when she spoke up, her tone a wee bit breathless from the exhilaration of what had just happened.

“Now see, that’s what I’d like to be doing; so why is it we spend every week only talking and drinking tea or coffee when we could be doing  _that_?” She inquired, her eyes all a-sparkle and heavens help him, he only wanted to kiss her and thank her over and over for her brave,  _brave_  display.

But brave or no, he also knew that nothing about their current situation had changed, though their  _future_  was now arranging itself quite nicely in his mind’s eye.

“Sit down, Belle dearie.” He murmured and he could tell by the subtle tilt of her head that his use of her first name had thrown her off. As she seated herself unsteadily, he folded his hands before him on the desk and leaned forward, doing his best to keep his face gentle and calm.

“Do you recall, my dear, when you accepted this surgical internship, that great big batch of paperwork you signed?” He paused and waited for her nod before he continued. “Yes, well…ah. To put it gently, you see, that paperwork included the hospital’s code of conduct, which rather unfortunately provides that hospital staff is not allowed to enter into any form of romantic entanglements with interns.” He explained and watched in agony as realization dawned upon the young girl’s face.

“So…” She began, but he cut her off; he had to be the one to say it, to explain it before it was too late.

“ _So…_  I’m afraid that the reason we don’t do  _that_  every week is because I value my job more than your affections, dearie.” He explained and as soon as he’d said it, he wished he could take the words back; it was much, much too harsh.

Her features instantly fell and he could see the way she had screwed her face up in a determined effort not to cry.  _Good going_. He’d just utterly destroyed any semblance of hope she’d had, effectively weaned her of any affections she’d been nursing for him. All because he’d had about as much tact as a slug.

“It’s Regina’s fault, dearie.” He added hurriedly, desperate to make amends. “She reminded me of that small detail after our first surgery. Otherwise, I assure you, we’d be much better acquainted than just a few stolen kisses.” He tried to make himself clear, tried to give her some semblance of hope to cling to.

“I see.” She said a bit uncertainly, none too convinced. “So you…you  _do_  have feelings for me. Don’t you?” She queried and again he was in an awkward position.

“My contractual obligations would make it necessary for me to answer that question with a no.” He fumbled awkwardly over the words, being torn between his prized power and status that being Chief afforded him, and this new, lovely bauble, this beautiful, wonderful little intern creature. “But, the moment that you pass your intern exam and officially become a resident in this hospital, I’d say it’s safe to say I’ll develop feelings for you rather suddenly.” He added, a lopsided grin sweeping across his features in an unspoken offering of a deal.

He watched her expression studiously as the realization of what his words entailed dawned on her. The way the color rose in her cheeks and she ducked her gaze shyly. It was difficult to abide by the rules he’d just explained when she was standing in front of him looking so innocent and sweet and willing.

“I understand.” Belle nodded as she seemed to regain a clear head. She looked at him in silence for a few moments and he returned her stare, willing time to pass faster in that moment. How could there still be  _months_  remaining of her intern year? It seemed that she had been an intern for an eternity already and goodness knew she was brighter than some of the doctors with years more experience than her already in this hospital.

But wait they would.

“If that’s the case though,” Belle began and he could nearly read the strain on her face as she said the words. Whatever was coming, he doubted he’d very much like. “We can’t continue on like this. I can’t have coffee or tea or  _sunflower seeds_  with you every week and not kiss you. It’s too difficult.” She breathed heavily and he could feel his heart sinking as she said the words, even if he knew her to be right. He did, however, take comfort in the fact that she seemed to like this no more than he did.

“That’s more than fair, Doctor French.” He said her name care carefully and with emphasis as he tried to demonstrate how he could behave. He could keep control. Call her Doctor French and not look at her like a man that knew her lips were nothing but sugar-coated drugs, addictive in the extreme. He could manage that. Or at least, he thought he could.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, neither of them sure what to do next. He would have been content to finish their drinks and sunflower seeds, soaking up every moment of her presence. He knew that this was probably one of, if not  _the_  last time he would get to be alone with her for at least a few months. He wanted to make it count.

But Belle, ever the braver of the two of them, seemed to have other plans. She stood slowly and gently pushed her chair away from his desk. He did the same and moved around his desk to get to her, intent on one thing.

If he was going to have to behave himself for the next few months, he was going to need something to get him through. And while the kiss she had initiated had been  _divine_ , he wanted to leave her with some unspoken promise, some tangible sign that he meant every word.

——-

The moment he stood, presumably to see her out of his office, she felt her heart shudder and then begin to race. He was dismissing her and that was probably a good thing; if she stayed, she doubted she’d ever bring herself to leave. The idea of  _knowing_  they both had feelings for each other and yet, being unable to act on them for another few months was utter torture.

Even still, as he approached her with one hand outstretched (to guide her to the door, she assumed), she still felt compelled to lean in close. And then, suddenly, he was ever so close and she could feel his breath on her face, warm and inviting. And though everything in her  _yearned_  to kiss him, she knew that one kiss would lead to two and two to three and they wouldn’t find the willpower to stop. And so, with their foreheads just barely brushing she sighed regretfully and reached a hand up to cup his face.

——-

“I think…I had better go.” She said softly, not meeting his gaze. And he understood, really he did, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He inhaled quietly, trying to fill his lungs and brace himself for the words he had to say. Instead, all he could focus on was the way he could smell her perfume (because it had to be perfume, certainly she did not smell that nice  _naturally_ ) in the air.

“Yes.” He agreed, though his voice was pained even to his own ears. “Perhaps…perhaps that would be best…” He trailed, willing himself to stop being so damned  _weak_  and to just accept the hand that life had dealt him. This was hardly a bitter hand, after all. Even if she changed her mind, even if she decided that she deserved a younger, more handsome, kinder fellow (which truth be told, she did), even if he never got to kiss her again, the fact that he’d had the chance to, even once, was prize enough.

“I don’t want to.” The words were simple, yet they breathed hope back into him as their gazes met, pleading and apologetic blue on aching brown. “But…I’m fairly certain if I let you kiss me, I won’t be able to muster the willpower to stop you. And that can’t happen. Not yet.” She whispered as he ran a single hand through her hair. The little tremor that seemed to run through her at his touch was well nigh magical. He’d never had that sort of sway over his ex-wife, or any other woman for that matter. And yet this exquisite creature craved his touch and shivered in appreciation of it.

It was going to be a very long few months, he thought.

“Then…go.” He smirked, a bit of that familiar bastard resurfacing as he taunted her, his face a few mere centimeters away from hers. Her eyes grew wide in surprise and then narrowed in frustration as she firmly placed both hands on his chest and gave him a gentle shove.

“Doctor Gold, that’s hardly professional.” She snorted but, he noticed, backed off quickly. It seemed that Belle’s self control, though superior to his own, had its limits as well. The idea of exploiting that self control made him grin with wicked delight.

“You have my sincerest apologies  _Doctor French_. I’ll strive to be the model of appropriate conduct henceforth.” He stated in his most Chiefly voice, though he paired it with a sly smile.

“You’re a bit of a bastard, you know that?” Belle muttered as she turned away from him with a bright smile and a shake of her head.

“Doctor French, I haven’t the slightest what you’re talking about. And you really ought to watch your language while in the hospital; uncouth speech is not the mark of a good surgeon.” He called after her retreating figure, which earned him a mock glower before she closed the door behind her.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head as he reclined, for the first time in months feeling truly relaxed.

A few months. That was all that separated him from making Belle French completely and utterly his. If she could wait, so could he. After all, good things came for boys who waited, right? Yes. Right.


	10. Flatlining

There was no reason that the last few months of Belle’s internship should have gone by as quickly as they did. She had expected them to drag by with painful slowness, with each day passing by like an eternity. After all, they always say a watched pot never boils, and Belle was counting down every day with childlike eagerness.

Instead (and to her great surprise), the days had flown by. Her final rotations had been far more demanding services – oncology, pediatrics, and orthopedics. All had required far more of her than ocular surgery or plastics, so Belle found she was running herself ragged dealing with cancer patients, ill children and broken bones galore. And thus, the days passed with frightful speed.

She had barely seen Doctor Gold. He seemed to have made a concentrated effort to limit their interactions, as if distance could make the waiting easier. She’d seen him for the last few of the surgeries she’d won from him in skills lab, but once those were done, she’d barely seen heads or tails of him. If she’d had the time to dwell on it, she might have fretted that he was intentionally avoiding her because he’d changed his mind. But presently, Belle had bigger things on her plate than her potential almost relationship with the Chief of Surgery.

The first year medical exam was approaching.

Every moment that Belle was not in surgery or with a patient, she and Ruby found their way to the records room to pore over patient charts. They compiled flashcards of every neon color under the sun and quizzed each other mercilessly. Even once the pair of young roommates went home after a long, hard day, they perused medical journals and textbooks over wine.

Orthopedics was Belle’s final rotation of the year. It was on this service that she found herself constantly rushing through her day just so she could have a fifteen minute respite to quiz herself. Belle had never rushed her job or shirked her duties before, but if ever she’d been close to doing so, it was now. She tried to justify it in her head; orthopedics wasn’t a specialty she saw herself pursuing, this test was important, and so on and so forth. But at the end of each day she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

Quickly, the days on her calendar were crossed off, drawing her ever nearer to the day circled in red. Test day. She’d have to endure hours of grueling test questions that would challenge all the knowledge she was supposed to have accumulated over the past year. Then she’d have to put up with one  _long_  day of waiting and she’d know. She’d know if her hard work had  paid off. She’d know if she was moving on in the program. She’d know  _if she and Doctor Gold could be together_.

No pressure, right?

——-

The final week leading up to exam day was complete and utter hell. The interns were all a crazed, sleep deprived mess running about on autopilot. Their residents and attending all knew and understood their pain, but paid them no favors. Surgery was meant to be difficult and they did not ease up. In the final week before the exam, Belle was almost certain that she overheard Doctor Mills and Doctor Glass joking around about having assigned extra work for their interns, just for fun.

To Belle’s great fortune, the worst case she had to deal with the week before the exam was a compound fracture of the patient’s tibia, which had caused severe nerve damage and compromised the vasculature. An emergency procedure had corrected the worst of the harm, but it had still been a time consuming procedure enough that Belle had been forced to miss several of her study breaks in order to catch up on charts and check in with her other patients.

So, it was in this sort of near-hostile environment that Belle found herself frantically studying two days before the exam. Technically she wasn’t on call – a blessing, to be sure. But, she needed access to the hospitals records for studying purposes, so she found herself back in the records room, surrounded by her peers.

She and Ruby had passed the time focusing on cardiothoracics, general, trauma, neurology and obstetrics, the subjects which most people whispered were the most focused on in the exam. It had been a long day and they’d only remembered to eat when one of the other interns had suggested they all chip in for delivery. Over slices of pepperoni and sips of water, she and Ruby had plowed through Neuro cases, hellbent on memorizing everything of any importance.

As the hours passed, Belle’s peers had slowly trickled out of the records room, having convinced themselves that they’d studied as much as they could for the night. But Belle had remained, a sole lamp illuminating the stacks of charts and textbooks she’d pulled from the shelves.

She hadn’t realized just how late it had gotten until she heard a gruff voice break through the stillness.

“Rather late to still be studying, don’t you think, Doctor French?”

Belle felt herself jump in fright, her head snapping up so her tired eyes could take in the poorly illuminated figure of Doctor Gold. 

“Oh.” She gasped quietly, suddenly incredibly self conscious. Ruby had left at least an hour ago, leaving Belle utterly alone. That made  _this_  the first time that she and Doctor Gold had been alone together since they had fessed up to their feelings for each other. Well… _she_ had fessed up - Doctor Gold had pointedly avoided admitting he did or didn’t feel anything for her. But the point had been clear.   

“I’m sorry Doctor Gold, I can go if you need to lock up, I didn’t realize how late it was.” She murmured as she got to her feet and began to sweep the charts and books together. Before she could though, a warm hand covered hers, stilling her movements.

“No need, Doctor French.” His voice was rough, but strangely warm. “I can tend to these. You go; you’ll need your rest for your exam.  It’s tomorrow, right?” He queried, even though they both knew he was perfectly aware of when the first year medical exam was scheduled for.

“No it’s-“ She glanced at her watch and groaned, not having realized that it was now three in the morning on – yes – the day before the exam. “Yes, yes it  _is_ tomorrow. I must have lost track of time.” She sighed and shook her head.

“Oh now, what’s on your mind, dearie?”

She shot him a thoughtful look, trying to figure out whether genuine concern had prompted his question, or sarcasm. She believed it was the former, thankfully.

“I just…I don’t feel prepared and I’ve been studying for  _months_  in here with the others.” She sighed, sweeping a hand through the air to motion to the stacks of charts and books. “There’s just  _so much_.”

When she turned back to look at him, he had a knowing smirk on his lips and Belle half wanted to hit him for it. It wasn’t right that he could look smug and suave at three in the morning.

“Yes, I know, my intern level problems must seem foolish to you, I know that I have plenty left to learn and it will only get harder from here.” She ranted and then shook her head with a sigh, wondering what she had expected him to do or say. He was the Chief of Surgery; he saw interns go through this every year; her pain was nothing new.

“Now, now don’t go putting words in my mouth. I was going to say I can recall what you’re going through and I can help.” Doctor Gold offered softly and even from where she stood, Belle could see that he’d lowered his guard, his usual defenses down in a rare display of vulnerable honesty. Belle felt her jaw drop at the offer, though she quickly clamped her mouth shut and forced herself to focus.

“Y-you can?”

“Why, I believe that’s what I just said now, wasn’t it?” He crinkled his nose in sarcastic delight when her cheeks took on a bit of color. “Now do you want my help, or don’t you?”

“Oh, I do! I do, really.” Belle exclaimed and took a step closer to him, studying him with frantic, grateful eyes. “Just, tell me what to do. Where do we start?! Is there a specialty I should be focusing on?” She asked, wearing an eager smile despite her fatigue.

“Oh no, first things first dearie; you’re going to get some shut eye. You’re no good to me or yourself dead on your feet.” He chortled as he guided her to the door.

“But Doctor Gold-” Belle began, though he never gave her the chance to finish.

“I won’t hear of anything but you getting some rest, Doctor French.” He restated firmly as he led her out of the records room and down the hall to one of the less frequented on-call rooms. She’d expected him to leave her at the door, but he walked with her inside and closed the door behind them before he directed her to the lower bunk.

“Go on then.” He nodded and watched as she seated herself, unsure what to do with him standing right in front of her, staring. When he motioned for her to lie down though, she did as he had demanded and laid herself down upon the thin mattress.

As soon as she had moved to obey, Doctor Gold had stepped forward and stolen the blanket from the top bunk to drape across her tenderly. He swept it up to tuck below her chin and in so doing, his hand brushed gently against her arm, sending chills up and down her spine.

“Rest well, Doctor French. I’ll wake you up later and we can begin.” He intoned softly before going to the door and with one long, lingering look, he bade her goodnight and flicked off the light switch.

——-

He was sitting on the edge of the cot when she woke up, close but not frightfully so as he leaned over her, a hand on her shoulder. He must have been trying to wake her up, she realized belatedly as she blinked up at him.

“How long was I asleep?” She yawned, pushing herself into a sitting position as she tried to shake off her fatigue. Her sleep had been restful, but she still felt as if half of her was not yet awake.

“Long enough.” He said simply and slowly Belle became aware of how he was still leaning over her even though she was already awake. She didn’t move, unsure what to do. They both knew the rules; when she’d finally forced him to acknowledge that he had feelings for her and she for him, he’d explained it plainly. They could not be a couple, could not be romantically involved so long as she was an intern. And she still had the better part of a few days left before she was officially a resident. Or, in the worst case, a repeat intern.

Belle didn’t bother to question him on the time, deciding instead to trust his judgment. As she stirred, she touched a hand to her messy ponytail and instantly set her hands to the task of fixing her untidy appearance.

“I’m probably a mess, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m much of a morning person…” She muttered an explanation with a hasty, apologetic smile

He caught her hand suddenly, his fingers enclosing around hers in a firm but not painful way as he eased her fingers away from her hair, letting her hair spill in loose curls to frame her face.

“None of that now, dearie.” He soothed. “You look more than fine.” He murmured and swept a hand behind her ear as he tucked a stray curl into place. His fingers lingered there and slowly came to cup her face. And though she knew better, Belle leaned into the soft feel of his hands and felt her eyes fall closed, his touch a welcome comfort after so much stress.

She hummed contentedly when that proximity brought him to pull her towards him, his nose brushing against hers tenderly. Her eyes stayed closed as he kissed her softly on the lips once, twice and continued to do so, each kiss a bit more passionate than the last. When at last she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her hungrily, a sly smile on his lips as he kissed her again, this the most demanding kiss yet. She felt it with her whole body, her head dizzy and her body feeling as if she was falling,  _falling_ …

Belle smacked hard upon the floor, her head striking painfully on the tile. She felt the air rush out of her lungs at the sudden impact and her limbs flailed about in confusion, tangling her in the loose sheets as she fumbled to push herself into an upright position, blinking furiously.

It had been a dream. She’d fallen out of bed after having a rather intense dream makeout session with Doctor Gold.

And it had only been a dream. The question was, how much of it?

She remembered being in the records room and Doctor Gold coming in and ushering her to bed. She remembered him tucking her in – had  _any_ of it been real? As Belle rubbed her head, she became distantly aware of something warm trickling down her face. When she pulled her hand away, she realized with a start, that she was bleeding.

“Blunt force trauma to the head.” She muttered through a yawn, only to shake her head and laugh softly at herself. “Signs you’ve studied too much medical terminology.” She groaned as she pulled herself up on unsteady feet. She’d need someone else to stitch it up for her, more than likely.

Belle departed the on call room and quickly made for the locker room, hoping to catch one of her fellow interns preparing for rounds. Even if it was only four, five or six in the morning (she still hadn’t checked a clock),  _someone_  ought to be around.

And then she remembered. Today was the day before the exam; all surgical interns had been given the day off. The only way she’d find any interns here would be if they were studying in the records room. Even then, it was probably a gamble to find anyone here; her best bet was probably to run home. Ruby would be awake; the girl hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours recently anyway.

 _But what if Doctor Gold comes to fetch you and you’re gone? You could be blowing a chance to study with a renowned cardiovascular surgeon and the Chief of Surgery_. A little voice in her head reminded her scoldingly.

Well, she couldn’t go to  _him_  to have him stitch her up. She recalled the way she’d shivered as he’d tucked her in; there was no way Belle could endure having him stitch up her cut. With his face next to hers, staring at her intently, his fingers piecing rent flesh back together. There was just something too distinctly intimate in the idea of it, let alone the reality. And they had come too far, danced around each other for too long, to fail now.

Besides, she was trying  _very hard_  not to think about the fact that she’d dreamed of him coming and kissing her dizzy. If she saw him in the flesh right now, before she’d had time to clear her head, Belle wasn’t certain what she’d do or how she’d respond. And really, flinging herself at him in the hospital hallway might be a  _touch_ on the inappropriate side. But right now, that was the only response she could imagine if she were to see him now.

So, without a word to any of the swing-shift nurses, Belle left the hospital, intent on getting home, changing clothes, washing up and having Ruby fix up her face. Then she’d be back and hopefully no one (particularly Doctor Gold) would be the wiser. If she parted her bangs just so, he wouldn’t even see the bruise or the swelling that was already forming where she’d struck her head. He did seem, from her experience, the sort that might fuss over something such as her propensity for accidentally hurting herself.

She’d bring him back some coffee or perhaps some tea; he need not know that she’d ever left. They’d study, he’d hopefully be able to help her focus and maybe even relive some of her stress. She’d take the test tomorrow and then…then she’d be free.

Because of one thing, Belle was certain; no one decided her fate but her. She would pass that damn test and then there would be nothing to stop her from kissing Gold in the hallway, propriety and professionalism be damned.

And today? Well, today she had an excuse. He was helping her study. Probably for a few hours. It would only be appropriate that they take their lunch together. In his office. Alone.

She smiled at the thought and pulled her purse over her shoulder as she walked to the parking lot, car keys in hand and all worries about the intern exam suddenly a little less acute at the notion of having lunch with the man who was, for all intents and purposes, her girlish crush. 

——-

He’d been in his office when he’d gotten the page, busy digging up his old study aides and various textbooks and test prep booklets in an effort to be prepared to help Belle study. Then he’d gotten 911 page to the Emergency Room and, grudgingly, he’d left, limping his way to the elevator and then through the mostly quiet hospital.

“Damn Mal and her fucking traumas.” He muttered under his breath, cursing the trauma attending all the way to her domain, or lair as he liked to call it. What with her temper, Malanie Vincent sometimes seemed more beast than woman.

As he entered into the ER, his eyes sought out the center of activity, finding it easily enough. Doctor Vincent was frantically ordering around an overwhelmed looking Doctor David Nolan and a handful of nurses.

“Mal, this had better be good, I was going over the budget…” He trailed off as he swaggered up to the bed, his voice faltering as he caught sight of exactly  _who_  the patient on the bed was.

There before him on the gurney was Belle, her features pale and pinched in pain, her hair more red than usual, flecked with blood from the multitude of wounds she had somehow acquired.

“She’s one of our interns, I thought you might like to know.” Malanie growled, working frantically with Doctor Nolan at her side as they attempted to tamponade the bleeding. Over her shoulder, Mal barked at a civilian who was clutching a towel to her temple. Gold afforded her not even a glance, until he heard Mal speak to her.

“Ruby! Ruby, listen to me. Focus. Do you know Belle’s blood type?!” She asked, to which she received an incoherent sob from the girl, accompanied by a shake of the head.

Gold swore under his breath as he brushed forward to help, but fortunately Mal kept her head better than he was.

“No? That’s okay, that’s alright. Go to that phone over there and call up the blood bank, tell them I’m gonna need all the O negative they can give me.” The attending instructed. As Ruby seemed to tremble uncertainly, she shed all pretense of kindness. “Ruby,  _listen to me_. I need you to do this.” And then, in a lower but no less fearsome tone, she added. “There is a good chance she is going to die with or without that blood but the only way I stand a chance in hell of saving her is with it. So you get your shit together and you call the damn blood bank  _now_.” She hissed, sending the young girl scurrying.

Gold, however, had fallen still at the mention of death.

_No._

It couldn’t be happening. Not again. He had already lost his son in this fashion; he could not be made to lose Belle too. There had to be some sort of limit to how much pain and how much loss one person could take and he was quite certain he could not endure this too. Not her. Not Belle.

“Belle, can you hear me dearie?” He asked as he busied himself with packing her wounds, stealing glances at her face every so often. Her lips seemed so pale, as did the rest of her. She gave a minute, jerky nod, her eyes dilated and almost unseeing.

“C-chief?” She stammered, her breathing harsh and labored. He smiled weakly and nodded, though all he wanted to do was kiss her. Bless her, the poor girl was bloodied open on the table and still she referred to him in a professional manner.

“Yes, I’m here, it’s me. How are you, love?” He asked, ignoring the sideways glance Mal gave him at the term of endearment, but he couldn’t have given a flying fuck what Malanie Vincent thought in that moment. Or anyone else. He had to comfort Belle.

“I-I’ve been…been better.” She gasped out, her voice quavering with pain. “Hurts.” She winced, her voice growing ever fainter. “I’m c-cold.” She admitted and he felt his blood go cold in response.

“We’ll fix you right up dearie, don’t you worry. We’ll warm you up in no time.” He forced the cheery tone of his voice as Ruby came back and muttered something to Mal.

“D-doctor Gold? I…I…” Belle attempted, unable to find the words.

“Hush now Belle, sweet. There’ll be time for that. There will be time for everything.  _Later._ ” He smiled encouragingly as he clasped one of his hands over hers.

“Alright, everybody let’s go, we’re going up to surgery.  _Now_.” Mal directed as the nurses and Nolan scurried to bring the various monitors attached to Belle with them. Gold moved with the group as they started to wheel the young girl out of the ER.

And then came a sound that sent Gold’s heart to a crashing halt.

Belle’s heart monitor suddenly began to go off, announcing that her heart was failing. And as he watched, the monitor showed a flat line as both David Nolan and Mal Vincent worked to get Belle’s heart going again. Gold dropped Belle’s hand and rushed to help them, frantically working on the girl and pounding on her chest to give compressions.

Time seemed to stretch for an eternity as each second passed and the chances of reviving Belle were reduced more and more. He was numbly aware of Nolan shouting that they needed to get her to surgery, while Mal yelled back that she was too unstable to move.

Gold saw only the heart monitor and the persistent flat green line that he willed to spike, willed to find a heart beat, some tangible proof that Belle was alive and fighting to stay with him. And still the seconds stretched on. Thirty seconds became forty five, which became sixty.

An entire minute of flat lining. Doctor Gold turned to stare at Mal, his eyes wide and filled with pain.

“Please,” he begged desperately, “do something. Whatever it takes. Just…Just…  _Save her_.” 


	11. The Exam

Two Minutes. Five. At seven minutes, the group grew considerably quieter, with only Gold still trying to attempt some form of rescue. His coworkers, however, had fallen still, a fact which was not lost on him as he snarled out directions.

“Push another round of epi, and where the  _fuck_  are Mills and Swan? Get them down here now, she needs to go into surgery  _stat_!” His throat was raw from screaming, but no one was moving, no one was administering the life saving drugs he’d been barking out, no one was paging the missing surgeons. They were all standing around staring at him, at _her_.

The young intern, the one that he knew Belle was friends with – Ruby something or the other – was sobbing quietly as she clutched a bloody towel to the deep gash on her face, her only serious wound from the accident that had ripped Belle to shreds. Doctor Vincent was staring in wide eyed shock at the figure on the gurney, all her trauma experience apparently for naught when the victim was someone she knew and had worked with, even if only for a month.

It wasn’t just Doctor Vincent though; all of them were motionless,  _none_ of them were doing _anything_.

“Get the damn drugs! What are you waiting for, we’re losing her!” He was at her head, the angry sound of the machine flat lining in his ears as he paused in his compressions to check her pulse, willing the machines to be wrong.

It was no use.

The trails of crimson that had been beading down her pale skin in heinous paths of ruin had long since stopped. And he knew, deep down he knew why.  _Blood cannot beat when there is no heart to pump it._

Despite his efforts, the heartbeat being picked up by the monitors was one of his own making. When he stopped forcing her heart to work, the machines would shrill and she would flat line again. She was  _gone_  and he  _knew_  it but he would not,  _could not_  relent.

He was gasping for breath when hands at his back gently pried him away from her and Doctor David Nolan was there, offering to take over compressions for Gold. The Chief, suddenly feeling as if he’d aged a hundred years in a heartbeat, numbly stumbled back to her head and sat beside her as Nolan took over. Softly, with hands worn and weathered with age, he stroked the pale cheeks that would never again flush with blood. He ran his hands through the mahogany hair that seemed suddenly so much darker against the stark, white complexion of her bloodless skin.

This was not her. This was not the Belle he’d known. She was gone; this was just a shell, an empty vessel. His fingers gently forced her unseeing blue eyes to close and his thumb ran gently over the soft, lush lips that he never had the chance to properly kiss.

And it was as he sat there, clutching one of her cold, unmoving hands (her hands always used to be so warm, he remembered numbly) that Doctor Nolan slowly eased his hands away and let her heart beat its last. The young doctor’s voice seemed loud in the hush that had descended on the group as he called time of death. Behind him, Gold was numbly aware that someone had turned off the monitors hooked up to Belle, thus silencing the shrill clarion of death that had begun to sound the moment Nolan had stopped compressions

The other doctors filed out slowly, Doctor Vincent helping an inconsolable Ruby away, leaving Doctor Gold alone with her. Or rather, alone with the cold flesh body of what once _was_ Belle. They had the kindness to pull the curtain closed as he said his goodbyes, his eyes trying not to look at the places where the automobile crash had ripped her apart. He tried not to see the rent flesh, the bloody gash on her forehead, just at her hairline. He tried not to see the congealed trails of blood running from her mouth and nose, or the dark pools that had stained the blanket they’d laid over her.

She was gone; his little intern, his  _little Belle_  and he never even got to kiss her properly. Never got to tell her the truth.

He wanted to cry, but no tears came. He wanted to scream, but his voice failed him whenever he opened his mouth to do so. He wanted to beat his chest, rip at his hair, but his body seemed unwilling to obey him in each of these regards.

Slowly, he leaned over her face, peaceful in death’s embrace and planted a soft kiss to one of the few places left unmarred by her accident. A small patch of skin, just in front of her ear. One soft kiss was all he left there and with a whisper, he told her that which he had been too much the coward to tell her when she yet lived.

“Yes dearie, I do have feelings for you.” He breathed, his thumb running softly over her cheekbone. “I loved you.”

—

Doctor Gold startled awake from his nightmare as a pair of trembling hands released their hold on him. Still half asleep, he swung his arms about him in confusion, prompting his unidentified awakener to stumble a hasty retreat back a few steps. He came to his senses slowly, only dimly aware of the fact that he was bathed in a cold sweat and his heart was still beating frantically.

“D-Doctor Gold?” The voice that called out to him was not one he would have expected, what with the vision of her still cold and bloodless burned into his brain. He stared at the not so distant figure with unfocused eyes, his bleary vision slowly cleared.

“Belle?” He questioned gruffly, his voice urgent as he stood up from his chair, his heart now hammering hopefully in his chest instead of fearfully. He blinked at her, now able to see plainly that it was, in fact, his favorite intern.

“You were having a nightmare, sir. Ashley wasn’t at her desk and I heard you calling out, so I came in, I’m sorry to disrupt you, I was coming to bring coffee and so we could start to st-” Belle explained, though he denied her the opportunity to finish.

Without a word of explanation he stalked around his desk, ignorant of the dull throbbing in his knee as he put one finger to her lips and silenced her. He took advantage of their close proximity to take stock of her, not bothering to disguise the way his eyes roved her as he looked for signs of injury. When at last he was satisfied that she wasn’t hiding dire wounds beneath her clothing, he returned his gaze to hers, only to notice the red mark hiding beneath her bangs.

With a frown, he removed his finger from her lips and swept back her hair and his frown deepened as he took in the fresh stitches.

“What happened here, little lamb?” He inquired brusquely, disguising the mixture of relief at her overall wellbeing and concern over her head wound as the emotions attempted to color his voice.

“Oh, that? Nothing, I just- I had a dream and I guess I was flailing because I woke up on the floor and cracked my head open. It’s really nothing. Ruby sewed it up.” She rambled nervously and he smiled faintly as a blush rose in her cheeks, coloring them so much better than his nightmare had painted them.

“I leave you alone for a few moments and you manage to hurt yourself.” He lamented with a touch of sarcasm as he grudgingly pulled his hand away from her face, intentionally allowing his fingers to skim against her cheek as he did so. “Looks like I’ll have to keep better watch of you.” He teased, but Belle’s gentle smile and nod of response hardly made that sound like the punishment that most would have viewed it as.

“I umm…brought you coffee but in all the commotion it…well it spilled.” She motioned sheepishly to the twin puddles around his desk.

“Ah…yes. My apologies.” He murmured, rubbing the back of his head as he tried to figure out an acceptable gesture to make for having inadvertently spilled her kind gesture. There was only one thing he wanted to do and one thing he wanted to say though and neither had anything to do with spilt coffee.

“Dearie…remember when we discussed our ah…’predicament’ a few months back?” He queried and Belle looked up at him, her forehead creased in a tiny frown as she nodded, clearly curious as to why he’d bring that up now. “Well… it so happens that…” He paused and ground his teeth as he struggled not to find the words, but to take the leap that saying them would symbolize.

Finally, the tension eased out of him and he met her gaze, his eyes dark with determination. In his nightmare, he’d lost her before he’d gotten to tell her the truth. Even if it was just a small token, he needed her to know how he really felt, even if the odds of anything bad happening to her between now and her test results coming in was fairly small. Rules be damned; Belle would know how he felt.

“I  _do_  have feelings for you dearie, make no mistakes about that.” He admitted and after a long pause, he brushed past it, not wanting to linger over what he’d said; he wasn’t sure his self control was capable of much more. “Now, let’s get to preparing you for your exam, shall we?”

He motioned to a chair and pulled it out for her, more than a little pleased to catch sight of the dazed expression on her face as he did so.

——-

They’d been studying for hours, ever since she had woke him up, they’d been knee deep in textbooks, flash cards, patient charts and countless other study aides that he’d whipped up as if by magic. Initially, Belle had struggled to focus, given that she was feeling a bit punch drunk on his admission of having feelings for her. But after Doctor Gold had called her out on her lack of focus, Belle had settled down to business.

Her energy had begun to flag when he excused himself to run to the employee lounge for coffee. When he came back, she was still knee deep in flash cards and only paid him half a mind as he sat down beside her and handed her a cup.

Out of it as she was, Belle’s fingers were clumsy and rapped against his hand much too hard, causing some of the rather hot liquid to go splashing out of the Styrofoam cup and onto  _his_  hands and lap.

As some of the coffee burned her fingers, Belle’s eyes opened and she gasped as she realized what she’d done. Doctor Gold had bitten back a noise of complaint, but there was a flicker of pain in his expression. Mortified ( _she’d just spilled coffee on the Chief of Surgery_ ), Belle snatched up her purse and mumbled apologies as she grabbed up a small plastic travel tissue case.

“Oh, Doctor Gold I am  _so sorry_. Please, let me get that for you.” She murmured, her fingers clumsily pulling out a few tissues which she then daubed upon the coffee stain on the thigh of his pants. Belle was so consumed with her own guilt and determination to blot out the stain that she had not paid any mind to the fact that Doctor Gold had tensed as soon as she’d touched him. Nor had Belle really noticed that the stain was rather high up on his thigh, high enough up that her touching was perhaps slightly inappropriate and that it might not be welcome.

When she did realize this, however, Belle froze, her hand still holding the balled up, coffee soaked tissue to the stain, and looked to him. He was wide eyed, his jaw locked and teeth presumably gritted as he stared at her in astonishment and something else too, something that she couldn’t quite identify.

“I-I’m sorry.” She murmured again, this time barely above a whisper as her gaze held his for what felt an eternity, her bright eyes locked on his dark ones. And suddenly his hand was on her waist and pulling her to him. And she did not question it, did not fight it, no, Belle  _leaned into it willingly_ , welcoming his kisses, his touch, and returning each gesture with one of her own.

——-

He cradled her in his lap and cupped the back of her head in one hand, his fingers buried in her hair. He wanted to memorize her lips, her touch, her taste, her smell, everything. He’d spent  _months_  waiting to be allowed to do so much as hold her hand or to kiss her cheek, never really expecting her to hold out hope and wait through it all with him. He’d assumed she’d become enamored with one of the other doctors or one of her fellow interns, someone younger and more whole and generally kinder and more deserving.

She hadn’t.

And now she had sat through hours of studying and quizzing with him, sharing innocent touches as their hands exchanged notecards or textbooks. Part of him argued that she’d only done that much because she needed the study help, but the fact that she was in his arms, kissing him, rather drowned out that part of him. If he needed any reassurance as to the genuine nature of her affections, he could find it in the way her nose gently brushed his, or the slow sweetness of each raspberry wine flavored kiss.

——-

They’d stopped studying in the early evening, when Doctor Gold had insisted that she go home, eat a good meal and go to bed early. She’d lingered in his office doorway, watching him studiously.

“Five o’clock in the evening.” He’d murmured from his desk on the other side of the room. Belle did a double take and stared at him, confused.

“What’s that?” She asked, watching as a smile unfurled upon his features.

“The day your results come out; I’ll be waiting for you at the café across the street. At five o’clock.” He explained, his eyes flashing as he turned to meet her gaze, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “No matter what the results read.” He added for good measure.

“It’s a date.” Belle nodded shyly and with a final, quiet ‘thank you’, she bid him goodnight and closed his office door, happy butterflies flitting about in her stomach.

 _They were going out on a date_.

——-

The exam had been long. And grueling. But Belle had felt relatively confident as she’d handed her answer sheet to the proctor and left the test room. She’d tried not to think about the exam again after that; Ruby had seen to it that the interns had things to distract them by planning a night out celebrating the end of their first year.

But now they were back in the hospital, waiting to receive the test results and suddenly she didn’t feel confident. She didn’t feel anything but nauseous and dizzy and clammy and  _terrified_.

Belle watched as Doctor Swan passed out the envelopes. One by one, each intern snatched up the little rectangles, the contents of which would determine their fate as surgeons. She could barely hear Doctor Swan over the thundering of her own heart.

“French!” She called, and Belle gulped before standing and going to collect her envelope.

The others had already ripped into their envelopes and Belle could see varying levels of happiness and, unfortunately, plenty of unhappy expressions. But for the life of her, in that moment, Belle could not make herself think about test scores and the terror of having to repeat her intern year over if she failed.

No. As Belle French clutched the envelope bearing her test results, the only thing she could think of was studying with Doctor Gold. Of how their fingers had brushed when passing note cards. Of how he had lingered closer than was necessary whenever possible. _Of how one accidental touch had led to her lips on his, his hands in her hair_.

More than just her professional career hung in the balance here – if Belle had passed this test, she stood to gain everything she’d been wishing for with  _him_. She’d have earned the right to taste his lips, to hold him tight, to run into his open arms whenever she damn well wanted.

With a flick of her wrist, Belle ripped into the envelope and pulled out the crisp, folded white paper inside.

——-  _Six Weeks Later_  ——

Belle walked with harsh, quick strides; the walk of someone that was angry and determined to do something about that anger. In one hand she was clutching the envelope and the paper it had contained much too tightly, wrinkling and crinkling her own test results.

She stormed past the desk where Doctor Gold’s flighty little secretary sat. Ashley was a sweet but oblivious little thing that, on a good day, Belle was happy to pleasantly chat with.

Today was  _not_  a good day.

“Ashley, clear Doctor Gold’s schedule. He’ll be in a meeting with me indefinitely.” Belle snapped and it was such a change from her normally sweet tone that Ashley went pale and nodded obediently.

“And Ashley?” Belle stopped, casting her fiery glance the young girl’s way.

“Y-yes, Doctor French?”

“I think you’d better take your lunch now. I’m going to be discussing this-” Belle raised the fist bearing her abused test results paper, “- with Doctor Gold  _very_  loudly and some privacy would be appreciated.” She glowered, to which Ashley could only bob her head and dodge past Belle and down the hall as fast as her little legs could carry her.

Turning to face the door to his office with a frown, Belle stomped in and banged the door to his office open and then slammed it shut behind her. He was at his desk, a look of complete consternation on his face as he watched the most gifted intern in his hospital come raging in like a bull in a china shop.

“Can I help you with something, Doctor French?” He queried, his voice rough as he cleared his throat and looked to her with dark, expectant eyes.

“Yes. As a matter of fact you can.” Belle snapped before marching forward and smacking the envelope and paper on his desk in front of him. He looked to it with raised eyebrows, and then her and then back again.

“Do I need to clear some space for your rage?” He asked, but Belle ignored his little quip.

“Read it.” She commanded and he obliged, reaching forward with one hand to pluck the paper up. He smoothed it on the flat surface of his desk and let his eyes rove over the page, reading the words transcribed there with rapt attention.

“And is there something in particular you wanted to discuss about your test results, or are you just here to show off that you earned scores in the 97th percentile?” He asked, and behind his glasses, his eyes were dancing with mischief.

 _The bastard had known all this time that she’d passed her exam. Of course._ And yet still, she had suffered for six long, painful weeks, hoping he would call or come to her or just in some way  _acknowledge_ that she had passed.  But no.

Instead, she’d had to spend the break with an overjoyed Ruby wanting to go out to bars, where she’d been repeatedly hit on and had turned all comers away. And now, for the life of her, she couldn’t see why she’d bothered. Clearly she’d been nothing to Doctor Gold but a fling; if she had been anything more, he would have sought her out, or at least shown up for coffee as they’d agreed to once the results had come out.  Instead, she’d waited alone at that little shop until it had gotten dark and they’d eventually closed for the evening.

It had been mortifying. But what was worse? It had been  _heartbreaking_.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.” Belle growled and pointed to the paper in his hands. “That right there means that I passed my first year medical exam, does it not?”

“It does” He affirmed with a slight nod of his head.

“And that right there proves that I am no longer an intern, but a resident. Correct?”

“Two for two, Doctor French; I’m beginning to see why you were top of your class.” He smirked and she glared at him in return.

“Shut up.” She lashed out and this time he fell silent, a look of slight shock sweeping over him.

“You gave me  _one_  reason why we couldn’t be together.” She reminded him. “And that reason no longer applies. I am no longer an intern. I am a  _resident_ , damn it, and nothing Doctor Regina Mills or the board or anyone else says or does can change the fact that, according to hospital policy, you are allowed to enter into a romantic relationship with me.” She was practically hissing at him now, while he sat smiling back at her.

“Don’t smile at me!” She bristled, placing one small hand on her hip in indignation. “I am not a  _child_  and I  _will not_ be mocked or made light of.” She huffed. “Now tell me, ‘ _Doctor Gold’_ ,” she intoned sarcastically, “now that I am no longer your intern, what is your excuse for not being with me, hmm?”

She finished her little tirade, chest heaving and both hands placed on the surface of his desk as she glared at him, firecrackers exploding behind her cornflower blue eyes.

With careful movements, Doctor Gold neatly folded up the paper bearing Belle’s test results ( _such high marks_ , not that he was at all surprised). He set the paper and accompanying envelope to the side and stood, giving her a dark leer before he crossed the room and went to his door.

Belle hung her head, willing herself not to look as defeated as she felt. He was showing her out of his office, having determined that her childish temper tantrum was over and she was unworthy of his time. Of course the infamous Doctor Gold, the nationally renowned cardiovascular surgeon and Chief of Surgery had not wanted a foolish young girl like her.

Belle’s eyes were still closed when, instead of the sound of the door opening for him to bid her farewell, she heard the sound of a bolt sliding into place. When she looked up at him, she saw his hand where it hovered just above the door handle, the door to his office now firmly locked to keep out the rest of the world, and  _her_  trapped in here with  _him_.

“You know, little lamb, I’m beginning to wonder if you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the way you keep on howling at me.” He chuckled as she folded her arms stubbornly before her, her chin jutting out defiantly.

“I’m still mad at you for standing me up.” She snarled, though there was far less vigor to these words than had been present in her earlier ones.

“Oh aye, I expect you are.” He nodded as he swaggered closer.

“You’re lucky I value my future career in surgery too much to risk hurting my hands, otherwise I would punch you right now.” She admitted with a glower, which elicited a laugh from him.

“I suppose I’d deserve as much. But to be fair, I did go, dearie. I watched you playing with that ridiculous flower you wore in your hair, outside that cafe the whole time.”

“Y-you did?” She asked and he could only chuckle and nod.

“Indeed, I did. I just couldn’t muster the nerve to walk up to you. You’re rather intimidating in your own right, you know.” He grinned.

“I am?” She breathed in surprise. 

“Oh aye. You’re also a sweet, naïve little thing much too young to want the likes of me.”

“I don’t care.” She insisted as he drew even with her, her hands sliding up his chest and taking hold of his lab coat about the collar.

“You’ll regret choosing me.” He warned as his hands went to her hips.

“I won’t.” She responded as she shook her head gently in response.

He didn’t say anything more after that. Doctor Gold simply covered her mouth with his and for the first time since she’d attempted to kiss him in the supply closet, they shared a kiss that was in no way against the rules. It wasn’t illicit or secretive; they could kiss here in his office or out in the hall and it wouldn’t matter if Mal Vincent or Regina Mills or any of the others saw.

Because Doctor Belle French was no longer an intern; she was a cardiothoracic resident and she was free to date Doctor Gold if she wanted to.

And if the way she enthusiastically returned his kisses was any indication, she  _really_  did want to. And she would; now that she was no longer an intern, he was absolutely, unequivocally  _hers_. 

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks goes to Valoscope for the title idea and to Wondertwinc & Marchionessofblackadder for encouraging me to write this. Without their poking and prodding Doctor Rumbelle would never have come to be! <3


End file.
